


A Brother's Burden

by Raine_Wynd



Series: Battle Cries [9]
Category: Highlander: The Series, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Becket Family Feels, Brothers, Canon-Typical Violence, Chuck Lives, Clan Denial, Crossover, Cussing, Drama, Established Relationship, Family, Foul Language, Immortals, Kaiju War, M/M, Magic, Post-Operation Pitfall, Shapeshifting, Werewolves, Yancy Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-31 06:29:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3967933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raine_Wynd/pseuds/Raine_Wynd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What's a brother to do when secrets are now a family tradition?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Jocelyn for this one.
> 
> Also, this is rated mature because some of this is about life in wartime, and that's very rarely a pretty thing.
> 
> If you're just here for the sexy!fun!times: it's in here; it's just going to be a while before this story gets there.
> 
> Highlander canon notes: Clan Denial, baby, all the way! What, there was a sixth season? A movie called _Highlander: Endgame?_ Not in here! :-) And because of that, I'm resurrecting who I want in the Pacific Rim canon. :-)

Yancy woke abruptly. As he shifted to see where he was, the sharp pain of bruises told him he was badly hurt. He could feel the distinct needle stick of an IV in his left hand and saw he’d drained half a bag of saline solution. The décor in the room, however, was not that of a hospital or the Shatterdome Seattle medical clinic: he was in someone’s bed. It was a very comfortable bed, piled high with an old down comforter (he could tell by the smell and the weight after years of living in Alaska) and a plaid end blanket in green and blue, in a pattern he knew he hadn’t seen in one of the decorating catalogs his mom had loved to receive even if she ordered most things online. Under the blanket, he was naked. He couldn’t see where his drivesuit was, but imagined it had to be somewhere in this house. His mind automatically leapt to a single conclusion: he’d fallen out of the conn-pod and been rescued by a civilian. 

His arm, he realized, was in some kind of sling that held it tight to his chest. _Dislocated or broken,_ he thought, and he ached all over. _Where the hell is Raleigh and why can I feel him grieving and where the hell am I?_ He wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of cedar and sage, and realized it came from the comforter, no doubt from sitting in a storage chest, unused. He shifted slightly on the bed, and a book Yancy hadn’t noticed sitting on the corner of the bed lost its fight with gravity and fell to the floor.

Drawn by the noise, a broad-shouldered man walked into the room. He had a commanding presence of quiet authority. His dark brown hair was braided back. He wore a gray three-button Henley, dark blue jeans with a thick leather belt, and no shoes. He moved with the grace of a martial artist – and Yancy recognized that only because he’d been training with one for so long. The stranger had a face with a wide forehead, deep-set eyes, a large nose, thick lips, and an angular chin.

“I see you’re awake,” the stranger said, taking a seat in the lone desk chair. “I’m Duncan MacLeod. I’m a medic. How much do you remember?”

“My name is Yancy Becket. I was in Gipsy with my brother and the fucking kaiju went for the conn-pod. Ripped me right out of it. I thought I was dead,” Yancy growled. “Why aren’t I in Anchorage, at the Shatterdome?”

“Because you were dead,” Duncan said quietly. “The world is currently mourning you.”

“And how the fuck did I end up here? Is this some kind of Purgatory?”

Duncan half-smiled at that. “No, you’re very much alive. A witch took a risk and saved you.”

Yancy struggled to sit up more, but gave up after realizing he was still too sore to move. “How?” he demanded. “And why can’t I go back?”

“Because you aren’t exactly human anymore.” 

Frustrated, Yancy snarled – and the sound he made was more canine than human. Sheets and the heavy comforter ripped under his – claws? _Holy shit,_ he thought as feathers floated in the air.

Duncan didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked resigned, as if he’d expected this reaction.

Yancy tried to talk and abruptly realized he couldn’t. Somehow, he had paws where he’d had hands. Shocked and suddenly afraid, he cowered instinctively. 

“Think of yourself as a human,” Duncan intoned quietly. “Start with your toes, your fingers.”

With a sickening crunch Yancy swore filled up the room, he shifted back. Suddenly, all of the bruises were gone, but he was very tired. His joints felt as stretched as if he'd been piloting a jaeger in a storm for hours and trying to cross a bay to catch a kaiju that didn't want to be caught.

“Sleep, Yancy,” Duncan urged. “We’ll talk again when you wake, and I’ll have dinner ready.”

Cautiously, Yancy gathered the comforter towards himself. He saw immediately he’d only ripped two small slices, nothing that couldn’t be mended. The comforter looked as though it had suffered worse fates in its lifetime, judging from the number of repairs Yancy could see at a glance. The feather pillow had sustained more damage, so Yancy tossed it aside. Telling himself he’d fix it all later, he closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Some hours later, Yancy woke again. The saline drip had been removed; he had a small Band-Aid covering his wound. His arm was out of the sling; shifting had apparently healed it. This time, he found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, both advertising ‘DeSalvo’s Martial Arts’, on the chair and a note.

_Bathroom is around the corner to your left. Feel free to shower and take your time. When you’re ready, come out to the main room and we’ll have dinner. – DM_

Feeling reenergized, Yancy did precisely what the note suggested. The soap had no scent, which eased his old dislike of smelling like everyone else. The shampoo was a popular brand Yancy recognized as having been around forever; he’d never used it. It worked just fine on his hair as far as he could tell. The water pressure and temperature were better than he’d come to expect in a war-time house, which either meant he was somewhere off the grid or in the house of someone who could afford the utility prices. The towels were thick and plush. Everywhere he looked, he could see the quiet statement of money, thoughtfully spent. Yancy had once taken those kinds of luxuries for granted, back before his mother’s cancer, back before he’d taken on balancing the family budget, back before his father had walked out on what was left of his family.

It made Yancy wary, and he resolved to ask Duncan what he wanted from Yancy. He didn’t feel as though whatever Duncan wanted was sex, at least not now, and that ‘danger, run,’ instinct wasn’t flashing bright red alarms. It felt as though Duncan was telling the truth. That was what twisted Yancy up in knots, because the truth was never just one little thing. Granted, being declared dead was a big deal, and so was turning into – whatever it was that he turned into. Yancy shuddered away from the thought of _werewolf_ , but he knew that now that he’d thought it, it was going to be the RABIT his mind chased.

Dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt, which fit well, Yancy stepped out in the hallway. He saw immediately that the house was set up in a very delineated fashion. The bedroom he’d slept in and the bathroom were along one wall. A second bedroom – the master, he deduced, from the huge bed he could see from the open door – was across the great room from where he stood. The kitchen formed the back wall, with a sliding glass door on one side. The patio blinds had been drawn to let in the light. It was currently raining, and Yancy realized, far too green in that backyard to be in Alaska. A dining room table with six chairs sat in the space in front of the sliding glass door. A breakfast bar with stools separated the dining area from the kitchen.

The smell of sautéed onions, garlic, tomatoes, and bell peppers filled the air. As Yancy approached the kitchen, Duncan added ground meat to the pot and a liberal dose of spices. The scent was instantly recognizable as taco seasoning.

“I thought we couldn’t get the vegetables for tacos anymore,” Yancy noted cautiously.

“You can if you grow them. I have a garden in the back. You’re on a farm north of Seattle, Washington. I have a small flock of sheep I’m raising for milk, wool, and meat. My friend and I thought it best if you didn’t accidentally go wandering through Anchorage.”

Yancy stared at him. “We were up off the coast of Anchorage,” he began, his voice trailing off.

“You were found in the water by the crew of the _Opulent Bounty_. They gave your body to a witch in return for medicine.”

“Why wouldn’t they just bring me to the Shatterdome?”

“They’re black market kaiju parts salvagers. Most of them are dying from kaiju blue, so they…”

“Wouldn’t be allowed near the ‘dome unless they passed through a decontamination first,” Yancy finished. “And if they were salvaging parts, they’d get locked up.” Bitterly, Yancy asked, “So how much was my body worth?”

“I didn’t ask,” Duncan said quietly. “My information about how you came to be in that witch’s RV came secondhand. I only found out you had been turned because I found you.”

“So what? I’m some kind of werewolf zombie now?”

“Not a zombie, and from what I understand, you were born a werewolf. You just were under a spell not to know who you were unless you were in grave danger. Did you have a bracelet from your mother, perhaps? One you never took off?”

Yancy’s eyes grew wide. “Yes, but – how did you know?”

“It’s common for a werewolf to hide themselves with protection spells and charms,” Duncan said with a slight shrug. “You’re not considered strong enough to know what you are until you’re in your teens. Shifting before then is not considered safe.”

Yancy eyed his host, picking up on the flat tone and reserved body language. “You don’t sound like you’re very happy that I’m alive or a werewolf.”

“The witch miscalculated how long it would take for you to come out from under that protection spell, and lost the chance to give you to the PPDC. The PPDC offered a substantial reward for your recovery, enough incentive for anyone to try anything.” Duncan looked at Yancy. “Desperate people do desperate things. I don’t always agree with that line of thinking, especially when the result doesn’t change anything. The world believes you’re dead.”

“So you’ve said, but I haven’t seen any proof.”

Duncan acknowledged that with a slight shrug. “As I’m sure you’re curious and have a lot of questions, there’s a tablet on the breakfast bar you can use. There’s no passcode and the Wi-Fi is already set up. Everything on it has not been spoofed or altered in any way.” 

Yancy grabbed it as if it were a lifeline and pulled up both CNN and the Pacific News Network. His heart sank as he saw the pictures and video of his brother in his dress PPDC uniform at a funeral. It took Yancy a moment to connect the images with the realization he was seeing _his_ funeral. Raleigh had one arm in a fast-healing sling, and looked equal parts grief-stricken and shell-shocked. _Ranger Raleigh Becket mourns loss of brother and copilot,_ the news announcer on the autoplaying video intoned in faux sympathetic tones.

It took Yancy a moment to realize none of the photos or video of the funeral showed their sister Jazmine present, and he growled. Jazmine was – he did the math in his head and realized she was not yet nineteen, and therefore still subject to the rules of her legal guardians, who, according to Jazmine, were very controlling. If she’d been allowed to attend the funeral, she would’ve had to be flown to Hawaii, where all of the jaeger pilots were buried. Based on what he knew about Jazmine’s legal guardians, who from all accounts had odd notions about propriety, Yancy doubted they’d have been willing to let her go, even if the flight was paid. Not for the first time, Yancy wished he hadn’t had to sign away his right to care for his sister in order to be a jaeger pilot, but he’d been promised she could get a good education in a safe home. Remembering that Jazmine had promised him that she’d take that education and use it, Yancy made himself breathe. Tendo would’ve found a way to make sure Jazmine saw the funeral, and that Raleigh knew she was there long-distance.

Resignedly, Yancy forced himself to focus on looking for more evidence of his death. A further search turned up even worse photos and video: Raleigh in a blood-stained drive suit, the burned wreckage of Gipsy, an interview with the old man and his grandson who’d watched Gipsy fall before them, Raleigh screaming Yancy’s name. Every news site had some variation of ‘Yancy Becket, esteemed American jaeger pilot, killed in action. Jaeger Program in trouble or fluke accident?” The dates on the articles all showed that it had been nine weeks since Knifehead.

For verification, Yancy accessed his PPDC email account and was denied. He then accessed his brother’s account and found an auto-reply turned on: _I am on medical and bereavement leave and will not be accessing this account until further notice._

It was signed with Raleigh’s official PPDC signature, the formal formatting and titles a reminder that while they’d been PPDC jaeger pilots, the US government had assigned them to the Department of Defense as special military operatives. Yancy hadn’t quite understood all of the legalese that entailed, but he’d been left with the impression he wouldn’t be getting out of that contract unless he was dead. With a shudder at the reminder that, as far as the world was concerned, he _was_ dead, Yancy focused his attention to his brother’s inbox.

A single email sat in the box. As someone who needed structure to keep him on track, Raleigh hated having unsorted mail, and anything not sorted and in the inbox was something to be handled. It was dated today and was from Marshal Pentecost, requesting Raleigh’s presence in his office. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Yancy hastily exited out of the email program. He wouldn’t put it past Marshal Pentecost to ground Raleigh for disobeying orders, but if the news sites were true, then Raleigh had a lot of recovery to go through, and Yancy didn’t think the marshal was so cold that he’d put Raleigh out on the street without proper medical care. 

That meant that Duncan hadn’t lied about Yancy being declared dead. Yancy took a deep breath to accept what that meant and let it out slowly. He never bothered to memorize anyone’s phone numbers, so he couldn’t call his siblings or Tendo or any of his friends among Gipsy Danger’s crew. Given the evidence he’d found, it would be an uphill battle to convince everyone he was alive, but he’d never pulled a prank like this so he had that going for him. His siblings would believe him; he’d never lied to them before about something this important.

“Tacos are ready,” Duncan said, breaking into his thoughts. “I have fry bread. I haven’t mastered making tacos from scratch yet.”

Grateful for the distraction, Yancy said, “I don’t think I’ve had fry bread.” 

Duncan grinned. “Oh, good, then it’s something new for you to try.” 

As tacos went, they were simpler than most. The cheese was definitely not American, something closer to feta in taste, but it worked. The fry bread was flat, fried dough with a slightly sour milk taste; it worked as the perfect substitute bread for tortillas. Yancy ate four and felt gluttonous, but Duncan made no comment, only handing over a glass of water.

“So what are you doing with me now?” Yancy asked.

“Up to you,” Duncan said easily. “You’re a werewolf now. You need to shift at least once every twelve hours or you’ll have to spend the day of the full moon in wolf form, unable to shift.”

“How do you know this?” 

Duncan sighed. “Much as I wish I could say otherwise, you’re not the first werewolf I’ve rescued from someone. The witch had you drugged, by the way, to slow your healing even further. That’s how we were able to transport you from Anchorage to here without you noticing, and why your body hadn’t healed your broken arm completely.” 

Yancy stared at him, trying to comprehend. “But…but why would anyone want to turn me into a werewolf? Or anyone?”

“Werewolves are stronger than humans; they can heal from any disease, any poison of the blood –” 

“So if you turn someone into a werewolf, they could possibly survive kaiju blue,” Yancy deduced. “And then they might survive the kaiju.”

“Person has to be near death,” Duncan said quietly. “Otherwise, triggering the magic doesn’t work.” He offered Yancy a rueful smile. “You have to also have werewolf blood in your genes in the first place, or you just die horribly instead of die.”

“How the fuck would whoever changed me know?”

Duncan shrugged. “Witches don’t like to make mistakes. Mistakes usually mean they get run out of town or worse.”

“That makes sense,” Yancy said. He’d always prided himself on being able to think quickly and see potential problems. Everything he’d heard so far made sense. “I don’t suppose you were able to get my dog tags or my bracelet?”

Duncan shook his head. “We weren’t looking for anything like that when we found you in the witch’s RV. We were just looking for whoever poisoned my friend’s wife to death.”

“So is the witch dead?” Yancy asked, horrified.

“Not by my hand or my friend’s,” Duncan said. “Kaiju blue got to her. My guess is she was hoping to use your blood to make some kind of cure.” He shook his head. “Last time I heard someone try to use werewolf blood to make a cure, it was for typhoid fever. Didn’t work then either.” 

“Let me guess, werewolf blood only works if you’re a werewolf.”

Duncan shot him a half-smile. “Magic has its laws, just like science.”

“So how did you know I was a werewolf?”

A ghost of smile tugged at Duncan’s lips. “You were in a crate marked ‘WW’. Given the lack of pet supplies and the other items the witch had in her little RV, I made a reasonable deduction. The more the drugs wore off, the more I could see you shift back to human.”

Yancy drew in a breath – and realized he could smell the faint metallic, almost ozone-like smell that covered Duncan like an aura. “You don’t smell right,” he said slowly. “You smell like the air does after a lightning strike. It’s not a cologne or soap – it’s…you.”

Duncan didn’t seem surprised by that assessment. “I’m immortal, but I’m not a werewolf. All the old legends are true, Yancy. The longer you’re alive, the more you realize that science hasn’t all the answers to the things that those old tales talked about. You drifted with another person, and there was a time when that was unimaginable.”

Yancy eyed him warily. “Immortal as in what?”

“I’m not a vampire or a werewolf or some great mythical god,” Duncan replied. “What I am doesn’t matter right now. What matters is you.”

“In other words, you’re not going to tell me everything about your kind of immortality because I don’t need to know it yet,” Yancy surmised.

Duncan nodded. “Eventually, I will, but I’d like to focus on you at the moment. If you wish, you may stay with me. Like I said, we’re northeast of the city. I raise a few sheep and some vegetables. Biggest trouble we’ll get is from folks who don’t understand the notion of permission, but I suspect that’ll change soon enough. If you want to go back – and probably give your siblings and the PPDC a hell of a scare – I have a friend who can get us a private plane and back to Anchorage.”

“You don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How much of a lab rat were you?” Duncan asked bluntly. “How much testing did you go through every time you climbed into a jaeger and all the times between? I’m an old man, Yancy, and it doesn't take me much to assume a lot more than what we've been told. From the look on your face, I can tell I’m right. And how much would it hurt your brother if you did go back now? Or your sister?”

“Raleigh would probably be grateful and crack a few jokes about zombies. Jazmine would punch me for pulling a really awful prank, but she’d accept it. Why shouldn’t I go back?”

“Would you have anything to pilot if you did? Reports I read said that your brother might not regain full use of his arm and that your jaeger is headed to Oblivion Bay.”

Yancy stared at him. “I want to go,” he snarled, shifting partially.

“Yancy. Think about how you’re reacting now. How will that go over with your brother? With the PPDC brass? You’d guarantee that you’d wind up never seeing the light of day. People are paranoid in these times, afraid the kaiju could hide as what you are now or worse.”

With an effort, Yancy made himself shift back to fully human, but he couldn’t quite manage his claws. He was too furious at the implication that he needed to hide. “I’m not a coward. So you want me to stay with you. For what? So you can brag to your wealthy friends that you got yourself your own jaeger pilot houseboy slave werewolf?”

Duncan gestured to the door. “Walk out anytime, Yancy. You’re not a slave and you’re not a prisoner. Sure, I could use a hand with the sheep, but I’ve managed without one for six years now. All I’m suggesting is that we spend some time figuring how you shift without getting angry so you can control it. Now you can do that from the comfort and safety of this house or you can do it out there by yourself with no support and no one to guard your back or make sure you don’t go hungry.”

Yancy blew out a slow breath. “Seen this before?”

Duncan studied him. “Would you believe me if I said I have?”

“No,” Yancy shot back. “But – I’m supposed to protect Raleigh and our sister.”

“And how are you going to do that if you can’t control what you are now?” Duncan countered levelly. “How will you explain your miraculous recovery?”

“I don’t know,” Yancy said. “I just…I need to know he’s okay. He’s my brother, and our sister is in a house that isn’t a healthy one. From all I can see, her legal guardians didn’t let her attend the damn funeral. How cold can you be?”

“Let me ask you this: if you came back now, would they believe you?”

“I…I don’t know,” Yancy said slowly. “Jaz…Jazmine would believe anything I told her, just because it’s me, and I’ve never lied to her about important things. Raleigh’s had weeks to get used to the idea that I’m…dead. Oh God. We were still in the Drift, still connected, when I got pulled out. His brains are probably going to be all scrambled and he’s not going to have anyone who can help him separate himself from me.”

“That doesn’t sound like he might be sane after that.”

Yancy met Duncan’s gaze. “He’s stronger than that, but you have to be to step into someone’s brain and then step back out, but we usually have time to decompress and unvelcro from each other. I…I don’t know what this will – is doing to him. Can’t you see? I have to go back.”

Duncan studied him a moment. “Even if you have no idea how to control your shape or what triggers it or why you’re now a shapeshifter with an extended lifespan.”

“Does it matter? I’m a jaeger pilot.”

With a sigh, Duncan acquiesced. “Let me see if I can contact a few people. TV still works, or you can use that tablet. Just don’t wander off.”

“Who are you anyway?” Yancy demanded. “You’re not a simple farmer who happens to be a medic, no matter how much you’d like me to believe that you are.”

Duncan sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m a very old man who’d like to see the world keep spinning a while longer. I’d like to keep on living on it, without the kaiju. That good enough for you?”

“If it means I get to see my brother and sister, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the Off the Rez food truck for introducing me to fry bread tacos. Mmm....


	3. Chapter 3

It took several days before Duncan’s contacts all reported that Alaska was now a restricted zone. Only PPDC authorized personnel could travel to it, and as Yancy’s authorizations had all been deleted with his death, Yancy no longer qualified. Having watched the news in the interim, Yancy wasn’t surprised by the information. He was disappointed, but he had known for a while that if you weren’t PPDC, the rules for the rest of the world were very different. Having it reiterated this way hurt, even though he knew it wasn’t personal. He couldn’t shake the sense that he was running out of time to get to Raleigh. He thought about maybe asking Duncan if he knew a way to get his siblings’ numbers. He had a sneaking suspicion Duncan was some kind of hacker or knew someone who was; the man was certainly acting like he had underground connections.

The more Yancy considered his options, the more he started to consider that maybe Duncan was right. For all of Jazmine’s complaining about living in a controlled environment, Yancy knew she needed that discipline and structure. God knew Yancy and Raleigh couldn’t have given it to her; they would’ve been right there with her, getting in fights and in trouble. Defending Jazmine had been one of the primary reasons for the brothers fighting; she’d always been more sensitive than most, more likely to cry, more likely to be bullied. She’d cried for days after their mother’s death and been inconsolable at learning they were now on their own after their father’s departure. Maybe her legal guardians had the right idea by not allowing her to attend Yancy’s funeral. Who was Yancy to argue with the people who’d come to know his sister more than he did, and who were ensuring she got therapy and schooling and was safe? Knowing what he knew about how she struggled with change, was calling her to say ‘Oops, not dead’ the right thing to do, even if it was the truth?

Then there was Raleigh – Raleigh who followed Yancy’s lead in everything. If Duncan was correct that being a werewolf was inherited, then it meant both Raleigh and Jazmine likely were werewolves too. Yancy knew they’d all worn jewelry from their mother – a bracelet for Yancy, a ring for Raleigh, a necklace for Jazmine – and never thought twice about what it meant. Yancy had no reason to believe Duncan would lie about how a person could become a werewolf, so it stood to reason that Dominique had intended for them to know what they were eventually. Could Yancy withhold that disclosure and still come up with a plausible reason as to how he’d survived? Maybe he wasn’t thinking this through, Yancy thought.

“Do you think I’m being foolish for wanting to see my family?” Yancy asked Duncan that evening.

“No. Nothing wrong with wanting,” Duncan assured him.

“But you don’t think I’m being realistic and looking at the consequences.”

Duncan let out a breath. “I know what it’s like to go back and try to convince people I survived something no one else did,” he admitted.

Yancy studied him a moment. “Was it just one time or…”

Duncan laughed ruefully. “I tend to fall in love with strong-willed, educated people who think they know how the world works.”

That made Yancy pause. “So you why are you even bothering to help me get with my family?”

“Because I don’t want to be the reason you wish you tried harder,” Duncan said quietly.

“But if I’m not supposed to talk about being a werewolf…” Yancy looked at the other man anxiously.

“That’s your choice,” Duncan assured him. “I’m told the reason for waiting on disclosure is that it’s so you have the maturity to know when to shift and when not to.”

“Because a little kid would think it fun to be a wolf for days,” Yancy thought aloud. “And hide and run away and do stupid tricks. Man, if I’d known…well, there’s at least one fight I would’ve just avoided by becoming a wolf.”

Looking amused, Duncan nodded.

“So…wait, I don’t have to die to become a werewolf?”

Duncan frowned. “I’ve never been entirely certain about that part,” he admitted. “You’re only the third werewolf I’ve known.”

“So what else do you know?”

“Anthrax and brucellosis are lethal for your kind. Respiratory diseases will kill you if you don’t catch them in time, but other than that, you’ll heal. Oh, and canine distemper is apparently about as fun as whooping cough, but it won’t kill you if you get treated in time.”

Yancy blew out a breath. He’d look up how to avoid those; neither sounded like much fun. “That would explain why Mama always got scared whenever we got sick with flu.” He looked at Duncan. “I don’t suppose you know where those other two werewolves are?”

“One’s dead, the other…” Duncan drew a deep breath. “She never forgave me for doing what I thought was right, so I have no idea where she is or even if she’s still alive. Last time I saw her was a century ago.”

“You don’t look that old,” Yancy said, eyes narrowing.

“My kind stops aging upon our first death,” Duncan said, and changed the subject. “Did you want to go shopping for some clothes? I figure you’re probably getting sick of wearing those old sweats.”

“If it’s not too much trouble?” Yancy said gratefully. “Whatever money I owe you for this –”

Duncan waved it off. “You killed kaiju; let me at least honor that effort with what I can give you now.”

Two days later, Yancy was woken up by a gentle shake of his shoulder. “Get dressed. We leave in twenty minutes.”

Hastily, Yancy donned his new clothes. He stuffed the two extra changes of clothes into the backpack he’d also bought during the same shopping trip. He was surprised to see an old Navajo Chieftain plane land in the open field by the sheep barn. The pilots didn’t get out or turn off the engine. Yancy and Duncan boarded, and their flight was off.

The plane was big enough to carry nine passengers, but most of the cabin was stuffed full of cargo. Having seen this type of plane before, he knew it was designed to service remote areas as a combination cargo and passenger craft, where fuel supplies were scarce and basic air service was the only way in or out outside of a ship. It didn’t escape Yancy’s notice that the cargo was labeled as ‘humanitarian aid supplies.’

“Is it that bad out there?” he felt compelled to ask Duncan.

“You’ve been watching the news,” Duncan reminded him. “So you know that everywhere is controlled, whether by governments or by private interests. The average citizen isn’t getting medical supplies or food unless it’s via a ration.”

Yancy growled unhappily. “So this is a legit delivery then.”

Duncan nodded. “Friend of mine makes weekly runs. Most of it is pharmaceuticals – heart medicine, insulin, things that we used to take for granted as a normal part of living in a modern age.”

“But doesn’t the Red Cross have access to that?”

Duncan laughed bitterly. “They’re supposed to, but who cares about the elderly, the young, the sick, and the poor when there’s a war going on? Supplies should be diverted to the troops first, then everyone else. Didn’t you know you lived like kings in a castle?”

“Yeah, but…I never thought it would mean smuggling shit to the public. I mean, I’m a jaeger pilot. I did it because it was the right thing to do, not because it would make my brother and me famous. I just want the damn kaiju to die and leave our planet.” He looked at Duncan. “So this is going to the Red Cross?”

“Not directly,” Duncan said evasively. “It’s going to a Red Cross site, yes. Our contact on the ground will make sure it goes to the people who really do need it, not the people who think they do.”

“Ah,” Yancy said, and wondered just how far the corruption ran that civilian supplies had gotten to this point. How many people were dying needlessly out there? From the look on Duncan’s face, Yancy suspected ‘too many’ was the answer. If Duncan was at least a century old, then it stood to reason that he’d seen this sort of thing before in the last world war. That would be enough to make anyone tired, Yancy thought.

Four hours later, they landed in Anchorage. It was then Yancy saw a man and a woman had piloted the plane. They greeted Duncan as if he was an old friend and pointedly ignored Yancy, as if he was invisible.

A bored-looking official met them on the tarmac. “You guys with the Red Cross?” he asked.

“No, we’re with the Locksley Greene Foundation,” the male pilot said.

The official checked his list. “Ah, yeah, you got a van waiting for you.” He radioed to someone else, and a white panel van soon arrived to unload the supplies. Yancy took the hint to help Duncan with the loading. Duncan hustled him into the van and shut the door before saying, “Sit down. Carl, go.”

“That any way to say hello to an old friend?” the driver asked, even as he put the van into gear.

“No, but give me a minute,” Duncan snapped. “Yancy, you’re going to have to shift. We can’t afford people at the shelter seeing you until disclosure is authorized.”

Yancy growled. “I’m not going to –”

“We have to get this cargo to the shelter first,” Duncan said. “Condition of getting you here. Now Carl and I can get it unloaded, but I do not want some eagle-eyed stranger seeing you before your brother or sister do.”

Yancy mulled it over and reluctantly shed his clothes. Duncan neatly folded everything while Yancy shifted to wolf, the transition not nearly as painful as the first time now that he knew what to expect. Still, the crunch sounded too loud in the confined space, and he knew his new body didn’t like a vehicle in motion.

“Aw, Mac, you know how I feel about dogs,” Carl complained.

“Not a dog,” Mac told him. “And I doubt seriously our friend here would chase you unless you asked.”

Carl shot Duncan a telling glance, giving Yancy his first real glimpse of the lanky African-American, then looked at Yancy in the rearview. “That true? Bark once for yes, twice for no.”

Yancy put his most sarcastic tone into that single bark, and got a laugh for his effort.

“Yeah, you’re one of Mac’s strays,” Carl said, sounding amused.

It didn’t take them long to get to the facility near the Shatterdome that was serving as a community shelter and central aid station. Judging from the reception they got, Yancy was relieved to see that Duncan hadn’t lied about the cargo being needed. He was equally grateful that Duncan didn’t treat him like a pet dog, which allowed him the freedom to choose to do exactly that. He wasn’t sure how far he was allowed to go, and there wasn’t any way he was willing to leave without his clothes.

It was mid-afternoon before Duncan borrowed the van and took Yancy to the Shatterdome. The gate guard stopped them as soon as they came to a stop.

“Special delivery for Mr. Choi,” Duncan said.

The guard waved them through and directed Duncan to the loading dock. Much to Yancy’s disappointment, Tendo didn’t show up to take the delivery of the two crates of fine bourbon earmarked for him. One of the LOCCENT techs did instead.

Still in his wolf form, Yancy took advantage of the transaction to do some searching. He knew the loading dock was on the edge of the jaeger hangar, and ran to see if Gipsy had been brought back for repairs. The bay was empty, deserted, and a chill went down his back at the sight.

Duncan jogged over to him, apologizing profusely. “Sorry, he’s usually pretty good at staying in the van,” Duncan was saying to the security guard.

“Get a collar and a leash on him,” the guard advised. “Man, he’s a big one, eh? How’d you manage that?”

“Alaskan dogs,” Duncan joked, and the guard laughed.

“Yeah, they do grow ‘em bigger here. Huskies everywhere,” the guard said. “Listen, best you get out of here soon. Marshal’s favorite whiskey or not, he’s not gonna like hearing some delivery guy’s dog got loose.”

“Sorry for that. Come on, Yancy,” Duncan said sternly.

Yancy whined, wanting to go exploring more, find his brother, find Tendo, find anyone who knew him. He could smell the familiar scents of the Shatterdome – a mix of the high-tech lubricant, the pungent odor of the decontaminants, and the distinct smell of steel and sweat – and knew instinctively that if he got in closer, he could identify where his brother was.

“Here,” the guard offered, bringing a length of rope. “Might help.”

Duncan looked at the rope, then at Yancy, and looked as though the last thing he wanted to do was to put a rope on someone. “Come now, Yancy,” Duncan said, making his voice more commanding.

Seeing that look, Yancy decided retreat was the better part of valor, and stepped smartly over to Duncan’s side.

The guard laughed. “Smart dog,” he said, and took back the rope.

Duncan didn’t linger after that. Reluctantly, aware that they no longer had excuses to be there, Yancy went with him. They were stopped again at the gate by the guard.

“Tell your guy that any deliveries for Ranger Becket will be refused,” the guard said.

“Oh, how come?” Duncan asked innocently.

“He’s gone, all I’m allowed to say,” the guard said, shrugging. “You take it easy out there.”

Duncan shot Yancy a warning look and drove them over to the community shelter. Once there, he borrowed Carl’s phone to look up the news.

 _Raleigh Becket discharged from the Jaeger Program_ read the headline, and Yancy’s heart sank.

“He’s gotta be in town still,” Yancy said, but every place they tried in the next hour was a dead end. Wherever Raleigh had gone wasn’t in Anchorage and Yancy had no idea where his brother would go. Duncan checked them into a hotel so they wouldn’t abuse the community shelter’s hospitality, and they spent another day looking in the suburbs, to no luck.

In desperation, he asked Duncan to find Jazmine, but there, too, they met roadblocks. Yancy had forgotten that the PPDC had instituted security protocols around his sister’s existence, and Duncan’s inquiries were met with a visit from two representatives of PPDC Security.

“I don’t believe this,” Yancy growled after the representatives had left. “They basically are ordering you to leave Alaska and stop asking questions.”

“We didn’t exactly come in legally,” Duncan pointed out, “and looking up my name just turns up all sorts of red flags.”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t changed it in four hundred years and I’m not about to start now,” Duncan told him.

“Four hundred years? Why don’t you just put up a neon sign that you’re immortal?”

“Databases didn’t exist the way they do now,” Duncan noted. “And honestly, it wasn’t that big of a problem for me until 1998.”

“It’s 2019,” Yancy noted dryly. “You been keeping a low profile for twenty-one years?”

“Not exactly,” Duncan admitted. “I mean, I try, so anything that comes up would be from before then, and I look too young to be that Duncan MacLeod.”

“What does that mean?”

“Because the Game I play means I kill my kind,” Duncan said. “If you want to kill an immortal like me, cut off the head. That means there are some unsolved murders that they think are by my hand, and they’d be right.”

Yancy stared, then shuddered at the gruesome image that produced. “So I was right. You’re not a simple sheep farmer.”

“Seemed like the thing to be,” Duncan said with a sigh. “I’m tired of killing to survive, Yancy. I’m tired of losing friends and of losing the things that make life worth living. And this – I’m watching men use the kaiju to further shape the world in their image, and not care who they step on to do it.”

“So give up,” Yancy taunted, frustrated. “I’ll go find my siblings on my own without your help.”

“Go ahead,” Duncan invited.

Yancy stared at him, then gathered his things and stormed out of the hotel.

He managed to sneak onto the Shatterdome and, using his knowledge of the door codes, gained access to his old room, which had been scrubbed clean of everything except the Gipsy Danger logos. He had just exited the room when the familiar floral scent of the chief of security, Annie Livengood, hit him.

“Are you crazy?” the broadly build woman demanded.

“What?” Yancy asked, startled. “Annie, what are you talking about?

“They think you’re dead, and you should respect that,” Annie hissed.

“But I’m not dead,” Yancy said reasonably.

“You should’ve stayed _gone_ ,” Annie said furiously. “Representative Taylor doesn’t need another goddamn hero jaeger pilot, don’t you understand? You’re like crabgrass, stupid fucking immortals, think they can solve fucking everything by living forever, well, see if you can live through this, you fucking idiot.” She pulled out a gun and shot Yancy at point-blank range.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highlander readers: play spot-the-cameo-canon-immortal! You win if you guessed Cory Raines, Amanda, and Carl Robinson. :-)
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism is appreciated! I'm trying to update this every other day or so, depending on how far ahead I get with the story.


	4. Chapter 4

Yancy opened his eyes to find a distressingly familiar ceiling above his head, the heavy weight of the now-mended old comforter an odd sort of solace. He sat up to see Duncan sitting in the same chair, reading a book. At Yancy’s stirring, Duncan disconnected the saline line. As if that had been the cue, Yancy felt the pressure on his bladder and made a beeline to the bathroom, ignoring the fact that he was naked. He figured Duncan had undressed him; if he didn’t want to see Yancy nude, then he could handle his own modesty issues. Yancy returned to the bedroom to find Duncan had exited, and took the opportunity to dress before locating the other man in the kitchen. His chest still bore bruises, and he knew he was moving like an old man. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to have to shift again before he was fully healed, and he wasn’t entirely sure once was going to be enough, either. Still, he had questions only Duncan could answer; shifting could wait.

“How’d you find me?”

“A friend of mine likes to pretend he doesn’t get involved in wars, but I can usually find him in the middle of wherever information central is. I got worried when I didn’t hear from you after two days, and went looking. Me-Benjamin -”

Yancy’s eyes widened. “You’re not talking about a lanky, sarcastic dude, are you?”

Duncan grinned. “I would be, yes.”

“Oh man.”

“He said he just happened to be following Annie and saw what happened.” Duncan snorted. “More than likely, he wanted to know what she was up to in your old quarters. She shot you with –”

“One of the new plasma rifles, designed to be used against kaiju,” Yancy said, one hand coming up to rub his chest. “Which hurt like someone rearranged my insides.”

“That plasma shot did,” Duncan told him. “You were a bloody mess when Benjamin called me to come pick you up.”

Yancy shuddered at that image. “How’d he know to call you?”

Duncan’s voice was wry. “Said if there was a baby immortal or werewolf around, I couldn’t be that far away.”

Yancy eyed him. “Is he like you? You started to call him a different name.”

Duncan nodded ruefully. “A good friend, but we tend to draw too much attention from hunters if we spend too long together.”

“How come?”

Duncan didn’t say anything.

“Let me guess: you’re legendary even among your own kind.”

“Something like that.”

“Annie said something about ‘stupid immortals’ and that ‘Representative Taylor didn’t need hero jaeger pilots’.”

Duncan nodded. “She reiterated the same opinion when I found her. Unfortunately, she’s among those who think that my kind shouldn’t exist.”

“Annie? Annie who baked us cookies and acted like she was like a second mom…fuck, Rals never liked her,” Yancy shook his head. “Then again, what’s the old saying? ‘Come to the dark side, we have cookies?’ So where is she now?”

Duncan sighed heavily. “She’s dead,” he said flatly. 

“Where…where in world would she have gotten the idea about immortals?”

“There’s an organization of people who record the history of immortals,” Duncan said. “Supposedly, they just watch and record and don’t interfere, but it’s difficult to stay neutral once you know someone. Benjamin said Annie was on the list of new recruits for the Watchers. I’m sure she had your quarters staked out for the possibility that you were coming back.”

“That sounds stalkerish,” Yancy said slowly. “And also super creepy. How the hell are you supposed to live your life, knowing someone is watching?”

Duncan shrugged slightly. “I try not to think about it too much, and my Watcher has become a friend.”

“I hope there’s nothing like that for werewolves.”

“Not that I know of, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some sort of rules for families that someone somewhere is keeping track of; it’s what people do.”

“How long have I been out?”

“It’s been almost two weeks,” Duncan said. “You heal slowly, and that plasma shot took a lot of you. You were on a nutrient solution and a catheter until this morning; I figured you were getting close to waking up.”

Yancy considered that fact and everything he’d been told so far as he watched Duncan make a meal out of mutton stew and potatoes. He’d lost two weeks to trusting someone on his crew, and he was no closer to his siblings. On the one hand, he knew now he’d survive being shot. Unconsciously, he rubbed his chest and thought how he could’ve spent the rest of his life not knowing how it felt to die from a gunshot wound. Wincing at the memory, he waved off Duncan’s silent inquiry and accepted the bowl of stew he was handed.

Duncan didn’t ask any questions while they ate, apparently content to just take sustenance and finish the book he’d been reading while waiting for Yancy to wake.

“So did you make any progress on contacting my brother and my sister?” Yancy asked after he’d finished off most of his bowl.

Duncan shook his head. “Everything I’ve found says that your sister’s under PPDC protection due to the clauses you insisted they include so she stayed safe, which means neither of us will be able to contact her unless she wants to be. I’m not willing to push that any further than I have, because that security is sound and, given the rise in kaiju cults, makes sense. Your brother’s either a deserter or unfairly kicked out. My son is on Lucky Seven’s crew, and while he won’t talk to me directly, he does talk to my cousin. The scuttlebutt is that Raleigh was discharged for disobeying orders, destruction of government property, willful negligence leading to the death of a jaeger pilot, and failure to exercise proper caution while piloting a jaeger.”

“The fuck?” Yancy demanded, growling. “We saved both the ship and the city of Anchorage. Ten million and six people are alive because Raleigh killed Knifehead. If I’d lived, they’d be pinning on another medal of honor on us.”

“That’s the point: you didn’t,” Duncan said quietly.

“So they kicked my brother out on technicalities,” Yancy snarled. “And made him think it was his fault. I should go and set them straight.”

“But you’re dead,” Duncan said, “and that means they have no reason to repair your jaeger, no reason to put your brother with someone else, and all the reasons in the world to turn him into the perfect scapegoat. It’s been several weeks already, Yancy.”

“I need to get there and –”

“And then what? Find your brother and then what? Demand that they take you both back?”

“Hell yes,” Yancy shot back. “We did our job.”

“I know, and so does everyone else, but the tide of war is turning, Yancy,” Duncan said softly. “The ones with money and power don’t want the jaeger pilots to succeed.”

“So you’ll just sit here and wait it out?” Yancy sneered. “Wait for the kaiju to come so you can gather the survivors like some post-apocalyptic movie hero? Act as a way station for supplies you help smuggle? I’ve seen the kaiju up close, Duncan. They don’t give a damn about what you want. They’re here to wipe us out. Those people out there in those jaegers? Those people are my friends. I need to get back to them. I don’t want to sit around like some old fucking coward who can’t fight.”

“My name is Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,” Duncan said, his accent thickening so it sounded more like he was Scottish, “and I was born in the Highlands of Scotland in 1592. I have been alive for over four centuries, and I have learned the hard way when to fight and when to love and when both are worth dying for.”

Yancy met the impassioned gaze and refused to back down. “And you don’t think I’ve the balls to go on my own. So I fucked up on my first try, but I didn’t think Annie was going to wind up being someone who’d shoot me. Well, I’ve learned to shift without getting angry and I’ve learned I can’t shift if I want to keep my clothes. What more do I need to learn before you deem me worthy of leaving?”

“How to track your brother down effectively,” Duncan offered quietly. “How to build your life again. Your ID is all gone, Yancy. How are you going to get past all the security checkpoints without that?”

“I’m sure I’m not the first person to misplace an ID,” Yancy shot back coolly.

“No, but in these times, they’re less likely to accept that. You haven’t seen the news – the entire Pacific coast is under a general security advisement, which means that all travelers must carry ID.”

Yancy growled. “I thought this was still the USA.”

“It is, but war makes interesting compromises in the name of security,” Duncan noted.

Yancy sighed. He could see from the look on Duncan’s face that that wasn’t the only problem. “What else do you think I don’t know?”

“How to keep your sister safe, in a way that doesn’t demean who she is or who’s been raising her while you and your brother couldn’t. I’m guessing she complained to you that they were too strict?”

“Yeah. Said they restricted how much she could use the phone, made her stick to a curfew, and wouldn’t let her skip out on her therapy sessions. I’m thinking, given how emotional she got over Mama dying, maybe her guardians thought it better if she didn’t go to the funeral in person.”

Duncan nodded.

“I still don’t like it. I mean, she should’ve been there for Raleigh.”

“Not everyone can handle death,” Duncan noted. “You’re handling yours – and this whole situation – more calmly than I anticipated.”

“Seems kinda stupid to go into shock over it,” Yancy observed. “And…” he drew a deep breath and looked at Duncan. “I’ve always been someone who freaks out over stuff in private. I’ve always had to be the strong one, the eldest, the big brother.”

Not looking surprised, Duncan told him, “I understand how that goes. That’s why I think it’s important that you take the time now to prepare yourself. If you found Raleigh and Jazmine tomorrow, could you explain yourself coherently, in a way that they’d accept?”

Yancy considered. “Jazmine…if she’s still the same Jazzy she was when I talked to her last, a week before Knifehead…I don’t know. I think she’d fall apart and then I’d fall apart because I never could handle her crying.”

“And your brother?”

Yancy closed his eyes briefly. “I swear I feel him still. It’s like this ache right here –” he pressed his fist to his heart “- and up here –” he indicated his head “- and I know he’s wondering what he did wrong.” He looked at Duncan anxiously. “Is that what you mean by me needing to know more before I go?”

“Partly, but there are other dangers you haven’t considered. You know how to fight – if I remember the press correctly, all jaeger pilots are trained in a mixed martial arts style?”

Yancy nodded. “The theory is that if you know how your body moves that way, you’ll be more fluid in your jaeger and more centered in the Drift. All I know is that I don’t have to think about the effort required to maneuver a jaeger since I learned jaeger bushido.”

“Can you defend yourself? Have you thought about that?”

“If you’re thinking I should’ve been prepared for someone like Annie –”

“You should’ve been prepared for someone to find you,” Duncan countered. “You assume people are basically good in their intentions.”

“Yeah, so?”

“As you’ve experienced,” Duncan said dryly, “not everyone is. You need to know how to use what you know about fighting, because the day’s coming when we’re at war with each other for what the kaiju leave behind.” From somewhere, Duncan produced a wicked-looking sword and laid it on the table. “You’ll also need to know how to protect yourself from immortals like me.”

“Why?” Yancy wondered.

“Because legend says that if an immortal mates a wolf shifter, your children will be immortal,” Duncan said quietly. “And that would change the balance of power in the Game I play.”

“You don’t want me for that, do you?”

Duncan shook his head. “No, but there are people who do and who will.”

“And what the winner of your Game get?”

“Enough knowledge, money, power, influence, and connections to rule the world,” Duncan said. “Enough old magicks and science long forgotten to history to keep the world in darkness and misery if the immortal was so inclined – or to completely rewrite the future for peace and the good of mankind.”

“I take it you’re one of the good guys,” Yancy said.

“I try,” Duncan admitted. “I don’t want to rule the world. I just want to protect my friends and the people I love and do the right thing.”

Yancy took a deep breath. “You mentioned that you can die?”

Duncan nodded. “Like I’ve said before, cut off the head and we die. Anything else – we’ll live. Might not be sane afterwards, but we’ll live. I wasn’t sure if you’d survive the plasma shot, by the way. Benjamin assured me you would; we just had to patch you up first.”

Yancy squared his shoulders. It was becoming evident that what was at stake was bigger than just his siblings, but he wanted to make sure he had his facts straight first. “You have a son?”

“His name is Richie, and no, he’s not related to me by blood. I took him in when he was seventeen and raised him. He and I had a falling out when he was twenty-three, and we still don’t agree on what he’s doing with his life.”

“Like what? And why should you care as long as he’s an adult and not harming anyone?”

Duncan sighed. “Because he could be so much more than a bartender, conman, and a sometime thief.”

“Didn’t you say he was on Lucky Seven’s crew? Isn’t that worth something?”

Duncan sighed again. “Yeah, but he tends to take risks that could reveal immortality to others.”

“You trusted me with that knowledge, and you barely know me.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Duncan said. “Richie is impulsive and he thinks with his heart more than his head.”

“Oh,” Yancy said. “Well, generally speaking, the crew chiefs are good at policing unsafe behavior. They can’t afford someone getting hurt because that could mean delays in getting the jaeger deployed.”

Duncan mulled that over. “Maybe so, but Richie’s very charming.”

Yancy thought he wasn’t giving the guy much credit for maturity or common sense, but decided he wasn’t going to argue the point about someone he didn’t know. “So what do you think is going to happen to the Jaeger Program?”

“I think the self-interests will fund the Wall until their hand is forced, either by the kaiju destroying it or some exposé,” Duncan said. “They don’t care about the population that will be left behind, because they already have their castles and lands staked out and claimed. According to the news and what my son told my cousin, they’re focusing on what jaegers they have left.”

Yancy’s eyes widened. “So the real war will happen among the survivors, and whoever is unlucky to be attacked will be seen as ‘undesirable’ or ‘unfortunate consequences.’”

Duncan nodded. “I know you want to get back to your brother and your sister, Yancy, but I think you’re more needed here. I’ve been making contingency plans with some of my friends. We know already that they’re going to pull funding from building and repairing jaegers to create the Wall of Life. Construction has already been announced.”

“Walls crumble under a kaiju,” Yancy said darkly. “I’ve seen them do it.” He eyed his host. “Any other cards you’d like to lay out on the table? And are you really over four centuries old?”

“First time my cousin talked about sailing across the sea to England, I thought he was drunk or the demon got him. Then I saw the ship and really thought Connor was crazy.” A grin tugged at Duncan’s mouth. “I didn’t think he meant it, you see. We could’ve ridden to England, but it would take us longer. We only had horses, and even the fastest horse wouldn’t get us very far very fast.”

“You…you remember sailing on actual ships,” Yancy goggled. “And riding on horseback as the only means to get anywhere.”

Duncan nodded. “I was a boy raised to be his clan’s chief,” he told Yancy. “My cousin was already a legend – the one driven out of the clan for being a demon. They did the same to me; Connor claims if he’d known sooner, he would’ve arranged to get me out of there before I died.”

Yancy closed his eyes and sagged into the chair. He could be sitting in the home of the best con artist he’d ever met – but already, Yancy knew Duncan was a man of his word. Duncan had rescued him twice and helped him, with no expectation of payment.

“Supposing I agree to stay,” Yancy said. “You’ll let me keep looking for Raleigh and Jazmine?”

Duncan nodded again. “Whatever you need, and if you think you need to go, please do me the favor of telling me first.”

Yancy extended his hand, which Duncan took and shook. It might not be the best course, and he was certain his brother would argue the point, but staying put seemed more reasonable. He didn’t have money, clothes, or food. His run-in with Annie only proved that he didn’t know enough about the people he’d once trusted. Yancy had to come up with a better plan, one that would work, and for that, he needed a base of operations. After all of his jaeger pilot training, he knew enough about strategy to know that creating that foundation was critical. He had to know more about what being a werewolf meant; surely, if Duncan’s kind had made connections, other werewolves would have done the same.

 He couldn’t help Raleigh if he couldn’t find him. Some part of Yancy knew that if his brother didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be; Raleigh had been a champion at hide-and-seek. Maybe the best course was to focus on Jazmine first, then Raleigh. “Is there any way we can maybe post a note to my sister at least? I don’t want her accidentally shifting and freaking out. She’s not good at change.”

Duncan considered. “Not electronically; everything is tracked now,” he said. “But let me check. Last I knew, postal mail was still being delivered, and we may be able to do something that way.”

Yancy accepted the compromise; it would have to do until he could see his siblings in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments, constructive criticism, and kudos appreciated! :-)


	5. Chapter 5

It took Yancy another month to fully heal; shifting didn’t cure the deep-flesh bruises that the plasma rifle had incurred the way time, rest, and access to food did. Being a werewolf made Yancy crave red meat more, and he was grateful that Duncan raised sheep and chickens for their consumption. Going into the nearest grocery for the items they couldn’t make themselves was a painful lesson in how everyone was coping – or not – with the restricted food supply. Among other practical things, Duncan taught Yancy how to make soap from hand, which explained why the house soap wasn’t scented or branded. In time, Yancy learned too that Duncan had a good relationship with his neighbors, and how the little community thrived on a barter economy despite all the public restrictions. 

Summer came late to the Pacific Northwest that year, and the news from the Kaiju War was increasingly tinged with a rising sense that things weren’t going well for the Jaeger Program. Yancy tried not to pay too close attention, having discovered that he tended to get so wound up that he’d have to shift and run around the farm just to contain the anger and frustration he felt. It didn’t help that no one had seen Raleigh in any of the refugee centers Yancy visited on the pretext of helping Cory deliver supplies. Raleigh had been the one who’d taken the lessons in wilderness survival to heart during their jaeger training; Yancy had mostly nodded his head, memorized what he needed to do to perform the tasks come test time, and scoffed at the notion that they wouldn’t be rescued in time. He knew his brother was resourceful. That quality had been one of the things he’d counted on when they piloted Gipsy: while Yancy focused on strategy, Raleigh focused on what they could use to execute that strategy. It didn’t change that Yancy worried about his brother.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Yancy told Cory one night as they got ready to taxi out of their latest airfield. “I’m driving myself crazy looking for someone who doesn’t want to be found. For all I know he thinks the PPDC is looking for him and wants him to Drift with someone new, and I won’t force him to do that. It’s too personal.”

Cory glanced at him. He always dressed as if he was a flyboy out of a WWII poster, and had an air of a scamp who was having a great time pretending to be a grand character out of a movie. “How personal?” 

“Imagine having every memory you’ve ever had downloaded into your brain, and then you have to then use that bridge to move as one with someone else.”

“Oh, that’s why Richie said the only way an immortal would be a jaeger pilot would be if it was someone they trusted,” Cory murmured. “Good to know.”

Yancy looked at him, hearing something in that tone. “You, uh, immortal too?”

Cory laughed. “Who else would dare run contraband supplies in wartime and have the connections to make consistent deliveries? Besides, steal from the rich, give to the poor’s my motto.”

“I thought that was Robin Hood’s.”

Cory grinned. “So it is. Well, I’ll keep an eye out for your brother and let you know if I see him.”

“Thanks, Cory.” Yancy waited until they were airborne before asking, “So is it rude to ask how old you are?”

“Yes,” Cory replied, “and no, I’m not going to tell you. I don’t think about it most days, so why should you? I’ll have you home in a jiff.” Deliberately, Cory steered the conversation to other topics until Yancy found himself arguing about the antics of cartoon characters he barely remembered watching as a kid. 

Two days later, one of the TV newsmagazines ran an exclusive interview with Jazmine. Yancy missed the initial airing, and only caught the link because he’d set up a search alert for his sister’s name. Jazmine was dressed in a gray suit and looked like someone had taken the time to do her makeup. Her blonde hair hung in soft curls around her face. She looked poised and polished. The interviewer, Megan Messina, was known for interviewing celebrities who wanted to confess their secrets. Yancy remembered her as being one of the first interviews they’d ever done. He’d been so nervous he’d almost vomited, and Raleigh had cracked a joke that was borderline bad taste. Megan had handled it with grace.

“Jazmine, what is your favorite memory of your brothers?”

“Oh, we were in this old abandoned warehouse, and Yancy and Rals were playing superhero. I was the princess – I was always the princess – and they alternated between letting me be the evil princess who ordered them to destroy the city and the good princess who needed rescuing.” Jazmine smiled and blinked back tears. “I miss them so much. They were good brothers.”

“Why are you here tonight?”

“I’d like to send a message to my brother, Raleigh. Wherever he is, I hope he knows I love him and support him. He did the right thing, and I want him to know that.”

“Your brothers signed over your guardianship so they could be jaeger pilots. Do you agree with that decision?”

“Yancy wouldn’t let them do it without my input, so yes, I agreed.”

“What do you say to those who think they shouldn’t have?”

Jazmine rolled her eyes. “Then those idiots ought to be grateful they’re alive to bitch about it,” she said bluntly. “My brothers set the record for most kaiju killed by a single jaeger team.”

“If you could have both of your brothers here, what would you say to them?”

“What our mother always said to us: love forgives and family is home.” Jazmine pressed a manicured hand to her collarbone, and Yancy saw she still wore the teardrop necklace their mother had given her. “And then I’d hug them.”

“You graduated from high school. Any plans for college?”

Jazmine shook her head. “I wasn’t the greatest student,” she admitted. “I do want to make a difference, just like my brothers. So many people need help, and while I don’t want to join the PPDC, I still want to say I did my part.”

The interview concluded shortly after that. Yancy watched it three times more before Duncan confiscated the tablet and made him go to bed. “I will find out how to get in touch with her,” Duncan promised. “You are not going to by sitting there obsessing over how grown-up she looks.”

“I wasn’t!” Yancy protested. “More like…she was poised and pretty, like she always tried.”

That got a half-smile out of Duncan. “Spoken like an older brother. Now go to bed. We have a fence to repair tomorrow.”

A week after that, Cory landed in the open field. As had become his habit, Yancy was the first to greet him; Duncan followed a few steps behind, grumbling as usual that Yancy needed to be more careful as it could be any immortal. Yancy’s werewolf-improved hearing allowed him to hear the additional deprecations about his apparent lack of concern for personal safety, which Yancy also ignored. Given what he’d seen of Duncan’s ability to sense others of his kind and the fact that Cory always called to say he was coming so he didn't accidentally land on any sheep, Yancy doubted he’d have been allowed to shoot out of the house if Duncan really thought there was a threat.

“Special delivery,” Cory called, and led a blindfolded Jazmine down the plane’s stairs.

Yancy stood there, stunned. “Jazzy? You brought my sister to me?”

“Well, I figured one sibling out of two would be good enough,” Cory replied, grinning as he set down a small suitcase. He turned to Jazmine. “My dear lady, you may remove the blindfold now.”

Yancy held his breath. Jazmine stared at him, stunned, then the two siblings were crashing together in a hug.

“You’re alive!” Jazmine cried. “I knew it! I knew Mama wouldn’t lie!”

“What? Mama’s dead.”

“Of course Mama’s dead. You don’t survive lung cancer, idiot. Did you lose brain cells when you died?”

“What? Jazzy, what are you talking about?”

“You lost the bracelet Mama gave you,” Jazmine said slowly. “You’re a werewolf. That’s how you survived the fall from the conn-pod.”

It was Yancy’s turn to stare. “You knew?”

“Mama made me promise not to tell. She didn’t want to come back as a werewolf. That’s why she asked to be cremated, just in case some witch got an idea. Not that it would've worked because hello, lung cancer.” Jazmine glared at her brother. “Why do you think I was so scared you’d die when we were kids? Mama told me when I was six years old. I was terrified you’d turn into wolves if I didn’t cling to you. Plus Mama told me she’d turn into one and then she got cremated and I got so angry that she could’ve been alive if she'd just stopped fucking smoking. But no, she had to be addicted to one of the things that kill us.” 

“Oh geez, Jazmine.”

“Come on you two, let’s get inside. This isn’t a discussion the sheep need to hear,” Duncan said tactfully. “Cory, are you staying for dinner?”

Cory shook his head. “Need to get these supplies to Sheldon Point.” He handed Duncan a leather-wrapped bundle. “That’s from Connor. He said to tell you if you break his tongs, he –”

“Will make me make him a new one, his way,” Duncan said, sounding as though he was quoting an old phrase. “Yeah. That’s how he got this one.”

Cory looked worried. “Be careful where you set up that smithy, Mac. Men don’t like it much when other men know how to make weapons.”

“Then I’ll tell them what I’ve always told them: I’m not making swords or bullets, just nails for my fences and shoes for my horses.” Duncan met Cory’s eyes.

“Make sure you save some of those long nails for me, now,” Cory told him seriously.

“The extra pointy ones?” Duncan asked dryly.

“Of course the extra pointy ones,” Cory said, affronted. “Whatever would I do with the blunt ones?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m sure you’ve used them for something,” Duncan replied. “How bad is it out there?”

“I’m here, helping, isn’t that proof enough?” Cory countered. He turned to Yancy. “I’ll be back in three days for your sister. I had to promise not to be late in returning her.”

“To whom?” Yancy demanded.

“My guardians,” Jazmine explained. “I’m still living with them until I figure out where I want to work.”

“Oh,” Yancy said, disappointed that she couldn’t stay longer. He looked at Duncan. “Do we have extra blankets?”

“And I have an air mattress,” Duncan assured him. “We’ll be fine. Jazmine, I’m Duncan MacLeod. Welcome to my farm.”

Jazmine shook his hand. “What kind of farm is it?”

“I raise sheep.”

Jazmine laughed. “Oh man, if Raleigh was here, he would poke so much fun at you, Yance, for finding a fucking sheep farm to be a werewolf at.”

“You haven’t heard from him?” Yancy asked, following Duncan’s silent cue to go inside the house. They heard Cory take off a few minutes later.

“No,” Jazmine shook her head. “All of my calls are screened, so I have no idea what Cory told them to let me go with him, unescorted.”

“How come so strict?” Yancy asked.

“Some kaiju cultists claimed your death was a victory,” Jazmine said. “And there have been death threats against Raleigh. I’m not surprised he’s hiding; I just wish I could tell him he’s not crazy.”

“Me too, Jaz. I’ve tried looking for him but he’s not at any of the refugee camps or anywhere we used to hide when we were in high school.”

Jazmine nodded. “I looked for him too, but someone told me that the PPDC would like him back for more testing, since he’s the only other pilot alive who survived piloting a jaeger solo. I stopped looking after that.”

Yancy sighed. Figured the PPDC would want his brother to play lab rat; there had always been neurological function tests to see how long-term Drifting affected their brains. “So where are you living now?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Jazmine said. “Sorry, bro. But I really can’t. All I can say is that it’s not on the coast and it’s not in a kaiju danger zone.”

Yancy accepted the qualifier with another sigh. He’d put the damn clauses in, thinking only of some overzealous boyfriend or reporter, but he hadn’t thought through that they would include him, too. It hadn’t stopped him from trying, though, and he’d hoped that maybe this time would qualify for an exception, but his sister clearly kept her promises well. “I saw the interview you did with Megan Messina.”

“I was hoping you would,” Jazmine said, smiling. “Then all that practicing in front of a mirror was worth it. I was shaking so hard, I thought you’d see it.”

“Still not good with nerves?”

Jazmine shook her head. “Never will be, not like you and Rals. Oh, Yance, it’s so good to see you! Now shift. I want to pet you.”

“Jazmine Elizabeth! I’m not a fucking dog!”

Jazmine crossed her arms. “Fine. I’ll just wait until you’re asleep. God knows you petted me when I was shifted. Only fair I get to do the same.”

“My God, I sent you away to get some manners and you still are no better than when you left,” Yancy muttered.

Duncan choked back a laugh and said in a strangled voice, “I have some leftover chili, if that’s okay with the two of you.”

Jazmine looked over her brother’s shoulder. “I’ll eat anything, even Yancy’s cooking.”

“My cooking was fine,” Yancy countered, and let himself fall happily into the sibling squabble, just because he could.

It was with a heavy heart he bid goodbye to his sister three days later. As the only woman in the family besides her mother, she’d been given the task of keeping the werewolf lore, and passed on the journal she’d made of everything she’d been told, handwritten to keep it safe in a digital age. Jazmine had been the one to shift at an early age out of curiosity. It made Yancy realize that his childhood memory of them having a big, golden brown dog had actually been his sister, hiding as a werewolf. Jazmine revealed that one of the reasons she’d cried so much was because shifting as often as she had before her teenage years had caused her joints to develop a kind of arthritis early, and had dulled the effectiveness of the protection spell offered by the family jewelry. Werewolves who waited to shift until after puberty also gained the needed natural elasticity that prevented such pains. 

The two siblings had a whirlwind reunion. For Yancy, it was made even more bittersweet by the knowledge that Jazmine wanted to make a difference in the world just like her brothers had. Jazmine wouldn’t be swayed despite Yancy’s need to see that she was kept safe.

“Safe got me therapy and a roof over my head. My grades still sucked because I didn’t have a good foundation so I was way behind at the school I was sent to, so I wound up getting a GED anyway like we talked about. So now I know I have issues and why and coping strategies, but I’m still me, messed up and emotional. Because hello, I’m the only one in my fucked-up family besides Mama who knew we were werewolves. What kind of mom tells a kid that kind of secret and then makes me pinky swear not to tell anyone?”

“Ours, apparently,” Yancy said. “But Jaz – that part’s okay. You don’t have to freak out about that's anymore. Just...can we at least have one family member who doesn’t do grand gestures for humanity?”

Jazmine favored him with a sideways look. “Come on, Yancy. You know I wouldn’t be your little sister if I didn’t.”

Yancy heaved a sigh. “Yeah, but speaking as your big brother? I wish you wouldn’t. People are going to look at that like you’re trying to make amends for Raleigh or some shit like that.”

“And who taught me not to give a flying fuck about what other people thought, hmm? Besides, I’m a werewolf; I’m pretty hard to kill. I’ll be in touch, I swear.” Jazmine kissed Yancy’s cheek, hugged him, and boarded Cory’s plane.


	6. Chapter 6

_June 2023_

In a community shelter somewhere near the Wall of Life, Raleigh Becket woke, the images from a dream still fresh in his mind. He’d been a dog chasing sheep, of all things, on a small farm somewhere close to a city. _Yancy’s dreams_ , he thought to himself with a small, bitter smile. He knew he wasn’t supposed to think that his brother could’ve survived that 260-foot fall out of the conn-pod. He wasn’t supposed to think that his brother still whispered to him in his sleep or that he could sometimes hear him talking if he just focused hard enough – _“Mac, it’s too hot. Can’t I just lie in the sun and sleep? The sheep don’t need herding’ –_ but the conversations didn’t make any sense. Maybe the doctors were right that he couldn’t still be ghost Drifting with a ghost. Maybe Raleigh had just gone crazy. He’d run out of pills for his PTSD anyway and he was certain if he went to go refill them, the PPDC would come running to take him back and turn him into the lab rat like they promised if he’d only sign the papers saying he accepted their false judgment and would happily go Drift with someone else. Like he’d want anyone else rattling around in his fucked-up head.

It was calming to think that Yancy was somewhere chasing sheep and complaining that he’d rather be sleeping in the sun. His brother had wanted nothing more than to sleep in on their days off. Sometimes Raleigh had thought he’d gotten all of the energy out of his siblings like some energy vampire, especially since Jazmine just seemed tired and cranky all the time. He’d never quite understood why she was so upset over everything all the time. He knew he didn’t have the patience for her and hoped she was happy. He hadn’t been surprised not to see her at Yancy’s funeral, given how she was emotionally, but it had been nice to videoconference with her in private afterward. He hoped she was doing okay. His cell phone had been stolen shortly after his discharge and he’d learned it was too expensive to replace it, so he hadn’t tried.

Shrugging mentally, Raleigh reflected that he was glad his dream hadn’t been a nightmare this time and that he’d actually gotten some rest for a change in a warm bed. Within the hour, he’d joined the line for a chance to work the Wall. Within two, he was at the top of the Wall, welding away, the repetitive work already familiar and mastered.

Someday, he might be strong enough to face his sister, but he didn’t see himself as being that great at being a brother. He had too many issues and too many regrets. The only thing he could do was focus on staying alive. Anything else felt like too much effort.

* * *

“In other news today, Greener Cleanups – a company that’s become synonymous with post-kaiju-attack cleanups and a high standard for worker safety – suffered a devastating loss in Mazatlán, Mexico today following the recent kaiju attack by Mospi. Mospi was killed by the Mark-3 Mexican jaeger, Tau Amazon. Three Greener Cleanups employees died when the safety suits they were wearing to protect against kaiju blue poisoning were found to have been deliberately tampered with in an attack the extremist kaiju cult K Stargods is calling a peace offering. The cultists have yet to be arrested, but the PPDC is investigating along with Mexican authorities. Greener Cleanups has identified the victims as Ilve Ibarra Bustos, Bettina Vaca Mata, and team leader, Jazmine Becket. Greener Cleanups also noted that Ms. Becket was the younger sister of PPDC Rangers Raleigh Becket and Yancy Becket, who piloted the American Mark-3 jaeger, Gipsy Danger.” **  
**

Horrified, Yancy hastily set aside the dishes he’d been washing and ran out to the barn, where Duncan was trying to fix the old truck yet again. He’d had a bad feeling for days and hadn’t been able to get a reply from either his sister’s email or her phone.

“Mac, I know where my sister is,” Yancy yelled.

Duncan carefully extricated himself from under the hood. He started to offer congratulations, then read the look on Yancy’s face. “I’m guessing that isn’t good news.”

“She was working for Greener Cleanups. Damn it, I knew she was; she kept trying to put me off that she wasn’t. Some kaiju cultist thought it would be good to slice open the safety suits. She and two others were killed down in Mazatlán. Fuck.” Yancy bit his lip and tried very hard not to fall apart.

Duncan looked at him steadily, stepped away from the truck, and held out his arms. Yancy stepped into them willingly, and let himself lean into that solid strength.

“Come on,” Duncan said after a few minutes. “Let’s find out if your sister just went into hiding after that.”

“I don’t think she would’ve had a chance,” Yancy said. “They would’ve cremated her to prevent the spread of infection.” 

“Don’t give up,” Duncan snapped. “Not yet. Not until we have a container full of ashes to bury.”

A week later, Yancy stood with Duncan at the funeral home. “I’m very sorry,” the funeral director said. “In accordance with PPDC protocols, the bodies were put in acid and then burned.” He took out a small folder. “However, all Greener Clean employees were required to provide a will and a statement for all loved ones in the event of an accident. Here is Ms. Becket’s.”

Yancy took the folder. Along with a standard will form, bequeathing what she had to Raleigh Becket, there was an official statement written on Greener Clean letterhead.

_I, Jazmine Elizabeth Becket, make this statement of my free will. This is for my brothers. Know that I loved what we are but I do not trust the witches who work for this company, what they might do with someone like me. You’ve always been braver than me, and I chose this, knowing it would mean an end to a lifetime of joint pain. I will see you on the other side with Mama._

_Love always,_

_Jaz_

Not wanting to believe, Yancy demanded to see a witch, one that Duncan trusted. He was told what Jazmine knew: cremation rendered a werewolf’s remains inert. Brokenhearted over Jazmine’s choice, Yancy refused to attend the memorial service.

It was a much quieter Yancy who returned to Duncan’s farm two days later. In grief, he shifted to wolf form and refused to shift back for the better part of a week. He didn’t speak again about finding his brother; anytime Duncan brought it up, Yancy refused to discuss it. As far as he was concerned, Raleigh was on his own and could handle himself just fine without Yancy’s help.

If he dreamed about the heat of a welding torch, the bite of the cold wind from sitting atop girders, the no-nonsense delivery of the crew bosses as they called for workers, that was just his mind processing all the news from the Kaiju War, which wasn’t going well. It wasn’t the ghost Drift, connecting him with Raleigh. Ghost Drift didn’t exist. All of the PPDC manuals had said so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::hands over virtual Kleenex::


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic violence. If you don't want to read it, feel free to skip down to the horizontal line.

When Romeo Blue fell a few weeks later, defending Seattle, the entire metro area was declared a limited access zone and civilians were evacuated. Duncan, however, stood his ground and kept his farm running for the few who couldn’t or wouldn’t leave, like Teresa next door, who had been barely getting by before the evacuation order and had nowhere to go and nowhere she wanted to go. She was dying – cancer, Duncan suspected – but she didn’t trust any doctor that wasn’t Duncan and he didn’t have the tech to prove a diagnosis they both knew only meant death. Yancy could smell it on her like a black cloud; he gave her comfort in the only way he knew how, by letting her think he was just Duncan’s oversized golden husky mix. Duncan managed to prolong her life through some herbal remedies he knew, but nobody was fooled into thinking he had a cure. Duncan tried to argue that he was, at best, a field medic, but Teresa wouldn’t be swayed in her convictions that he knew what would ease her pain. 

Yancy admitted he was a little in love with her for that strength of conviction, but he didn’t dare speak of it. He suspected she knew and respected him enough not to call him out on it. He visited her often in both human and wolf form, and compensated for not being able to be there for his siblings by being there for Teresa instead. She was in her mid-thirties and had left a career behind on the East Coast to care for her parents, who’d died two years before Yancy had arrived on Duncan’s farm. With nowhere else to go and no money to get out, she’d stayed, relying on the little community of neighbors until she was too sick to go anywhere else.

He never asked her if she figured out he was both a wolf and a man. It was enough that she didn’t ask questions. She was one of the people he checked in on when his chores were done and he had time to kill. It was easier, he discovered, to be the giant dog everyone knew Duncan had, and not Yancy Becket, former jaeger pilot who didn’t think his brother would approve of him hiding out like this. Duncan took to asking that Yancy at least stay in human form in the mornings so they could have conversation while they worked. Yancy figured it was the least he could do to repay the man’s hospitality. 

Yancy made his rounds of the neighbors in the afternoon. The small community was slowly being abandoned as people were ordered out or gave up the notion that they could survive without government services or public utilities. In a bid to force people to evacuate, power and water had been turned off. Yancy made sure to check in on the survivalist family a few farms away; they had little kids, which never failed to get to him. Once Duncan realized what Yancy was doing, he fashioned a leather pack for him so he’d always have a change of clothes, water, snacks, and whatever items he felt Yancy should deliver. 

“You shouldn’t stay in wolf form so long,” Duncan admonished when Yancy wandered back in late one night. “Aren’t you worried about losing who you are?”

Yancy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he told Duncan. “According to Jazmine’s book, that’s more of a worry if you’re too young when you first shift. Anyone ever tell you that you’re an old worrywart?”

Duncan barked a laugh. “Yeah, usually followed by ‘I’ll be fine.’ That rarely ends well.” 

Yancy looked at him. “Besides, how else am I going to know how long I can stay this way if I don’t practice?”

Caught by that logic, Duncan dropped the subject.

October 2024 was cold and wet. Yancy could smell that Teresa’s time on Earth was growing short. Though it was no longer summer, she still liked to sit out on her front porch, wrapped in as many blankets as she could find, watching the gray light. Yancy helped by giving her his body warmth; he knew he was warmer as a wolf than a man. He was napping beside her when he heard the sheep bleating in fright. With an apologetic whine, he looked up at Teresa.

“Go home. They’ve been there a while,” she managed wearily and patted his head. “If they come here to shoot me, it will be a mercy. Don’t worry about me.” 

Yancy was halfway across the field to Duncan’s house when he heard the high-pitched whine of a plasma rifle. _Fuck_ , he thought, and put on a burst of speed. He could run faster in wolf form, so he didn’t bother shifting. He had no idea if Duncan would survive such a shot and tried not to think of how it had felt. He heard a second shot and realized it was coming from the barn. The bastards were killing the sheep with a weapon designed to wound kaiju.

“Man, these really do pack a punch, eh?” one of the two uniformed officers joked as he stared down at the dead sheep. 

Yancy saw that the two men looked like they were straight out of Central Casting for redneck hillbilly cops. He’d seen them around – local boys, just this side of belligerent any time someone complained – and rued whoever had decided to arm the local police with anti-kaiju weapons. He didn’t think the PPDC would go that far, but who knew what they were thinking. It didn’t matter now: wherever Duncan was, Yancy needed to buy Duncan time to heal. Yancy skidded to a stop in the barn and growled at the two men.

“Hey, there’s that big dog everyone’s been talking about,” the shorter of the two cops said.

“Man, he’s a huge fucker. That ain’t no golden retriever I’ve ever seen.”

Yancy growled again and attacked the one with the rifle, hoping to knock it out of his hand. The maneuver worked only because the idiot had no idea how to hold it after he’d used it to shoot and was holding it like it was a toy gun.

“Ow, my hand!” Cop #1 said. “Shoot him, George!”

Yancy dodged the shot and gathered himself for another lunge, landing on George and knocking him down, intending only to knock him unconscious. From reading Jazmine’s journal, he knew a werewolf’s bite was septic. George grabbed his tail, trying to grab him, and pulled. The pain was so much, Yancy didn’t think; he just reacted.

He bit George, not caring at the damage he left behind. George immediately let go. Instinct made Yancy turn to Cop #1. Cop #1 tried reaching for his other gun, but Yancy dug his claws in and leapt again, swiping his claws at the other man’s face and inadvertently slicing the man’s throat in the process when he tried to duck.

Breathing hard, Yancy realized what he’d done, but in the moment, he felt no regrets. He left the two men dying in the barn and made his way to the house.

As he’d suspected, the local officers had been little more than riffraff, taking advantage of the freedoms of their position, and had rifled through everything in the house. They’d eaten half of the loaf of fresh bread Duncan had baked that morning and killed all of the chickens. Flour and other precious pantry supplies had been ransacked and tossed to the floor. Blood stained the hardwood floors, indicating that Duncan had fought them until they’d resorted to the plasma rifle.

Yancy quickly shifted, put on clothes, and went to find Duncan. The officers had dragged Duncan’s body out into the side yard – the one Cory had often used as an airfield – and had impaled him onto a crudely made cross. It took longer and more force than Yancy wanted to contemplate to get Duncan off that travesty, but he finally managed it. A full day passed before Duncan healed back to life; Yancy buried the cops’ bodies in the barn while he waited, cleaned up the messes, and repaired the cable connection the cops had also deliberately cut. He’d also found Teresa dead, having died sometime after Yancy had left her – precisely the way she’d wanted.

“It’s not safe here anymore,” Duncan said as soon as he was mobile. “There will be others. Do you want to stay or do you want to go? I won’t force you to stay, you know that.”

“Where are you thinking?” Yancy asked. He’d brushed his teeth a thousand times, wanting to get the taste of human flesh out of his mouth, but he knew he’d never forget it. How could he face his brother now, given how little remorse he felt over his actions?

“Could go north. Cory might be still running supplies; I haven’t heard from him in a while, which usually means he’s gone somewhere where he can’t communicate.”

Yancy nodded grimly; he’d watched the news. “They’ve closed the Tokyo and Lima Shatterdomes. They’re urging anyone left on the Pacific Coast to head for the safe zones.”

Duncan sighed. “I’m not going to a damn safe zone to be herded like cattle to a slaughter.”

“Well, which is it then?” Yancy asked. “Because if you go, I go. You promised me we wouldn’t run away like chickens.”

Duncan met his gaze and let out a breath. “We’re staying,” he said.

“Good,” Yancy said. “Because for a moment there, I thought you were going to be a hypocrite and tell me everything you built here was for nothing.”

Duncan glared at him for that, but he knew he was right. Duncan had built the house with solar panels and a geothermal heater, so they never had to rely on the grid for power. He’d dug a well so he could have running water of his own, unlike his neighbors, who relied heavily on the existing infrastructure. When the police came once more to make a mandatory evacuation sweep, Duncan again refused to leave, citing a need to care for his animals (Yancy willingly pretended to be an oversized husky mix.) Duncan was told he was on his own. They were left with only the emergency radio and TV station for news; Yancy soon wearied of the ‘yet another Shatterdome shutting down, another jaeger decommissioned’ bulletin. Figuring they were all doomed at this point, he shut off the radio and TV and spent more time out in the fields.

* * *

“Yancy!” Duncan bellowed and waited. He checked back again a few hours later, knowing that Yancy had taken to walking his territory in wolf form and could spend several hours at it. There were even a few places where Yancy would hang out overnight and not return. The last few months had been nothing but more confirmation that the world was ending and that the people in power thought it was the perfect opportunity to broker deals to benefit them. Someone had even burned what was left of Teresa's farm; the fire had almost spread to Duncan's farm before they could put it out. Yancy had taken the destruction and grim news hard, spending more time in his wolf form than not, and Duncan knew that couldn’t be healthy.

Duncan knew too that Yancy had more nightmares from the attack by the two officers, but refused to discuss what happened. “My head got shrunk enough by professionals. I don’t need you to tell me I just need time,” Yancy snapped one day when Duncan pushed too hard to get him to talk. “I did what I had to do. They aren’t bothering us anymore and nobody’s asked what happened to them, so what difference does it make?”

“Yancy, you need to talk to someone.”

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” Yancy drawled. “I’ll start by telling them my name and they’ll tell me I’m crazy. No thanks.”

Duncan sighed. He could see that his friend’s personality had changed. Yancy was grimmer, less likely to crack jokes, and he flinched if he heard a sudden noise. Duncan knew what killing a man did to someone; he just hadn’t considered what it would do to someone like Yancy. He suspected that in wolf form, Yancy didn’t get as reminded of what he’d done. Still, Duncan worried: how long could a werewolf stay in wolf form before he forgot how to be a human again?

Duncan tried again at dinnertime the next day, aware that the news was even better this time. With a sigh, he took out a dog whistle and blew, hoping that it would bring his friend back. Yancy hated that dog whistle and claimed it hurt his ears.

“Yancy!” he called again, and finally, Yancy came running back.

Shifting, he took the robe Duncan handed him before following him into the house, shivering slightly at the change in temperature. “What’s the fire?” Yancy asked.

“The tablet pinged with a news alert,” Duncan told him. “I didn’t believe it when I read it, so I thought you should know.” He handed the tablet to Yancy and watched the other man’s face fill with disbelief.

“‘In a dramatic fight that destroyed several Hong Kong buildings and disabled the Mark-4 jaeger, Striker Eureka, two Category IV kaiju were killed by the rebuilt Gipsy Danger, piloted by Ranger Raleigh Becket and Ranger Mako Mori. The two kaiju killed were named Otachi and Leatherback, both two of the heaviest and biggest Category IV kaiju to date. Scarily, Otachi was revealed to have wings, and even lifted Gipsy Danger high into the air above Hong Kong before being killed. Sadly, we mourn the loss of Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha, who were destroyed by the acid-spewing Otachi and the EMP-emitting Leatherback. The Weis and the pioneering Kaidonovskys will be missed,’” Yancy read aloud. He turned stunned eyes to Duncan. “Rals is alive.”

Duncan nodded. “Looks like. There’s more; that was yesterday morning.”

Yancy clicked on the next link. “Oh my God,” he breathed and raced for the TV, which they rarely turned on anymore.

He found CNN, which was full of talking heads analyzing the official PPDC announcement. He turned the channel to the Pacific News Network, which he knew was better at factual reporting. Both said the same thing, played the same clip.

_“This is Marshal Hercules Hansen of the Pan Pacific Defense Corps,” Herc said, one arm in a sling for reasons unknown. “The War Clock has been stopped. The Breach is sealed. Striker Eureka and Gipsy Danger went up against two Category IV kaiju and one Category V kaiju, and successfully launched a nuclear warhead into the throat of the Breach, collapsing it and closing the portal._

_“We have recovered three surviving pilots: my son, Lieutenant Commander Chuck Hansen, who piloted Striker Eureka with Marshal Stacker Pentecost; and Gipsy Danger’s pilots, Ranger Raleigh Becket and Ranger Mako Mori. Marshal Pentecost did not survive the assault on the Breach. Our condolences go to his family. All surviving pilots have been placed under quarantine and are undergoing medical care at this time.”_

Yancy stared at the screen in disbelief. “Oh my God. They did it. My brother is alive and he piloted Gipsy again and he did it.”

Duncan nodded. “Looks like the PPDC found him, despite being shut down by the UN.”

“Maybe that’s how they got him to go. Oh man. I can’t believe it.” He traced the still of the video with one fingertip as the news sunk in.

“You should get in touch with him,” Duncan urged. 

“What? I can’t see him.”

“Well, not half naked you shouldn’t,” Duncan replied, amused.

“No, they won’t let anyone get close to him. He’s too important now. I’m just nobody.”

“Yancy! You are not nobody!”

Yancy looked at him. “Yeah I am. I’m dead, remember?” He handed the tablet back to Duncan. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Yancy, what the hell?” Duncan said incredulously as Yancy started to walk away and out the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out,” Yancy said, shrugging off the robe and laying it on the chair by the door. “Don’t wait up.” He shifted before Duncan could protest and shot out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

_May 2027_

Herc studied his lover. Richie had been uncharacteristically moody all day. “You gonna let me in on who pissed you off or you gonna keep it to yourself?” Herc asked dryly as they got ready for bed in Herc’s quarters, since his bed was bigger and more comfortable.

Richie sighed and closed his eyes. “When it comes to stuff I think I can handle by myself,” he admitted, “I forget I can lean on you to vent if nothing else.”

Herc drew him in close, maneuvering him so that they were both lying in bed, Richie’s back against Herc’s chest. “So tell me.”

Richie purred at the closeness. Though both men were muscular and athletic, Herc was more broadly built, and Richie fit easily. Biting back the smile at the notion that his lover was part cat for the way he purred when held, Herc waited. After six months as lovers and more than a decade of friendship, Herc knew Richie was more inclined to keep his problems to himself and handle them without Herc’s assistance.

Sighing reluctantly, Richie said, “Duncan wants to see me.”

“For what?” Herc demanded. He knew Richie’s history with his former legal guardian and first teacher. He’d heard about how Richie had trusted the Scottish immortal implicitly, and been rewarded for that trust by nearly getting killed by him three times. “And I thought you weren’t talking to him?”

“I wasn’t,” Richie said. “I still think he’s a judgmental hypocrite, but…”

“But what? I haven’t seen you this upset since we went to Paris and Amanda managed to convince Chuck to help her with one of her ‘shopping trips.’”

Richie sighed. “Mac’s hiding something and Connor can’t worm it out of him. That means it’s big.” He sighed again. “And it means I’m going to have to talk to him, and I don’t want to.”

“So don’t,” Herc said reasonably. “Let me.”

That brought Richie’s head up. He looked scared, no, terrified, Herc thought. “You don’t know –”

“Anything about him you haven’t told me, I know,” Herc replied. “I’ve told you before: I’ll make my own judgments about people. That said, I freely admit I’m going to be heavily biased in your favor. But what is Duncan going to do, love? He’s not challenging you, is he?”

“No. Else he’d have just shown up, and we’d have little warning.”

“He’s not challenging me or Chuck or any of our friends?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

Herc could feel Richie relaxing under the logic exercise. “Then what are you afraid of? He can’t try anything if we meet him in a public place.” 

Richie laughed bitterly. “Just…he wanted me to be better than a thief and a con artist.”

“And you’re not?” Herc demanded incredulously. “Richie, you helped maintain two jaegers and you helped raise my son. You taught me and you found someone to drum into Chuck’s head why he needed to accept immortality. What more could a father want, especially one of us? You to be some stuffed shirt with more money than sense?”

That got the laugh Herc wanted. “I don’t know,” Richie admitted. “I think he wanted me to forgive him for being possessed by a demon. He’s never seen that while I do forgive him, I can’t forget what he did, and what he did is just as inexcusable as if he’d been stoned.” 

Herc pulled his lover closer. “So what happens if you don’t see Duncan?”

“One of our other friends gets involved and it becomes a bigger deal than it should be,” Richie said. “Better if I don’t let it get to the ‘Richie needs an intervention’ stage.”

“Do they not trust you to know your own mind?” Herc demanded, irritated on Richie’s behalf.

“I might’ve let some of them assume I never matured past twenty-three,” Richie admitted.

“Richie!” Herc scolded. “You’re what, fifty-two now?”

Richie shrugged. “Yeah, but I did it in self-defense. If they assume I’m still as young as I look, then they aren’t paying attention to what I’m actually doing.”

Herc sighed. He’d made that mistake himself, letting himself get distracted by Richie’s charm and natural enthusiasm for living. Richie’s first death had been when he was nineteen and he’d retained that youthful energy as well. It had taken Herc a few weeks of intense training with Richie before he’d accepted that Richie not only knew what he was doing, but was ruthless, dedicated, deeply caring, and far more tempered by life than what he seemed at first glance.

Thinking of that now, Herc’s eyes narrowed. If it were just a phone call or an email, Richie would have blown it off by now.

“So when did you agree to meet with Duncan?” Herc asked.

Richie jerked at that.

“You wouldn’t be this upset if you weren’t lying here trying to tell me what you have planned,” Herc reasoned.

Richie looked at him and shook his head slightly. “Am I that obvious?”

“Love, now that I know what to look for, yes,” Herc told him. “You stomp off rather than tell me what bothers you. You dance around the truth rather than tell me an outright lie. You’ve been lying here, wrapped around me like an octopus, and you don’t normally hook your ankles around mine, so… Yeah. Obvious.”

Richie immediately unhooked his ankles and rolled so he could face Herc. “I don’t want Duncan coming here and hurting me and mine,” he said fiercely. “And I don’t like it when Connor tells me that whatever it is, it’s too damn important to ignore. Even if one of those times brought me to you and to Chuck.”

“So we’ll face it together. Tomorrow, then?”

With a sigh, Richie nodded. “He’ll be here at 10. I wanted Chuck to be in a good mood, and you know how he and Raleigh like to sleep in on Saturdays.”

Herc barked a laugh at that. He knew his son wasn’t sleeping in, thanks to their permanent ghost Drift, but he allowed Chuck the fiction. Raleigh made his son happy. “Is Connor coming?”

“Yeah. He said he wanted to be sure we stayed civil.”

Herc kissed Richie slowly. “Then we will be,” Herc said. “Now, I think you could use a distraction.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie asked, a small smile forming on his lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about you let me see what you planned for me with that new dildo you got?” Herc asked. “Since I suspect you were going to use it to bribe me into thinking everything was okay tonight?”

“What new dildo?” Richie asked, trying for innocence. “And why would I think bribing you would ever work?”

“Oh, because you know I like having my ass played with,” Herc laughed and kissed him. Having played with toys with his wife, Herc had known he liked having his prostate stimulated. Richie had taken that knowledge and expounded upon it. “As for what dildo? The one you put under your pillow when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. Like I could miss this,” he said, pulling out the lifelike toy. Herc preferred the feel of Richie’s cock to a toy, but he’d learned he loved the act of preparation as well, much to Richie’s delight.

Richie grinned and took the dildo. “Oh, this one,” he said lightly, silently agreeing to the distraction.

Richie had once thought that Herc had taken to being with a man far too easily for someone who’d never been with one before, but Herc didn’t think of it that way. Drifting with two men who’d had sex with other men had opened Herc’s mind to the possibilities and pleasures inherent in such choices. Herc also thought it had to do with the fact that Richie never acted as though Herc was somehow weaker or less of a man for enjoying penetration, or that Herc’s cock was something he should ignore completely. Herc loved with everything he had to give, and he loved Richie. 

Taking the cue he’d been given, Richie leaned up slightly to kiss Herc. A lifetime of being in military environments had made Herc more inclined to not verbalize during sex. Years of being a jaeger pilot had taught him how to regulate his breathing. The combination had made Richie determined to figure out what would precisely made Herc cry out. It hadn’t taken him long: a combination of penetration and cock sucking, and Herc was begging for more. This time, Herc wasn’t satisfied until he felt Richie’s cock inside him. Lifelike dildo or not, it wasn’t what he wanted tonight. Finally, Richie gave in to that demand and sent them both soaring to passion’s peak.

After they’d cleaned up a bit, Herc pulled the covers over them both and waited until he could tell Richie was asleep before breathing deeply. He was grateful to Duncan MacLeod for taking in a street rat and turning him into the formidable man Richie had become, but that’s as far as his gratitude went. No father should turn on his son, Herc thought, but he understood that in Richie’s case, there had been magic and demons involved. Extenuating circumstances – but to Herc, it sounded a lot like what he’d spent years ignoring with his brother.

_Oh, Scott’s just blowing off steam. He’s not hurting anyone as long as he can still climb in the conn-pod and fight kaiju. He’s not **that** hung over. I’m not getting second-hand contact highs off what I see in the Drift. I’m not seeing him experiment with BSDM and even kinkier shit just to try and provoke me; it’s just him being him._

In the end, Herc had almost killed Scott over what he had done and at the worst possible time. Rage was a powerful, all-encompassing emotion, and he’d buried that deep, under layers of frustration over behavior that had repeatedly crossed Herc’s standards. He’d once thought he’d never even want to kill his brother, but Herc knew different now. It made Herc look at what happened between Duncan and Richie from that lens, but even so, Herc was still furious on Richie’s behalf that it had gone that far. 

With a deep sigh, Herc told himself that worrying over tomorrow would only make the night pass slowly. As had become his habit in stressful times, Herc mentally counted his blessings. The PPDC was still valued by the world and needed. They had new jaegers with new teams to pilot them and staff and funding to support the infrastructure, which meant that Herc didn’t have to figure out what his job was now that the Breach was closed. His son was alive, healthy, and in love with someone who loved him back. Herc had someone who loved him, even if Richie hadn’t yet said the words. Everything else could and would be dealt with in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case I haven't mentioned this already: updates are completely random and are based on how quickly I write a draft I'm happy to publish, so please subscribe if you want to be notified. :-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited slightly and expanded from the initial posting; I realized it was missing some dialogue.

The whimpers woke Chuck. Used to Raleigh’s nightmares, he shifted position carefully, aware that in the dark and in the throes of a nightmare, his boyfriend was sometimes prone to striking first and asking questions later. Though they hadn’t happened often since Chuck had started sleeping in Raleigh’s room, when they did, they were often doozies.

Chuck reached for the light switch, conveniently located between the wavy bars of the handcrafted metal bedframe. “Hey, love, wake up,” Chuck said, touching Raleigh’s shoulder and shaking gently. “You’re having a nightmare.”

It took Raleigh a minute to process Chuck’s words. When he saw Chuck’s face, he swore violently. Chuck didn’t take the words personally; instead, he got up and filled a glass with water before handing it over to the other man. 

With a resigned sigh, Raleigh accepted the water and drained the glass before he handed it back.

“You gonna go walking for a bit?” Chuck asked carefully. It had taken a lot of effort to understand while Raleigh loved him, some things couldn’t be fixed, no matter how much Chucked wanted them to be or how many resources he could bring to the situation.

Raleigh shook his head. “Just…sit here with me?”

Chuck nodded and sat down, offering his hand for Raleigh to grip.

Raleigh breathed out carefully before taking another breath and gripping Chuck’s hand. “Thought I was done dreaming I was chasing sheep,” he said.

“Thought chasing sheep was supposed to be restful,” Chuck teased lightly.

Raleigh shook his head. “Not…not the way he was doing it. Like if he was chasing sheep, he was good for something, the way I felt when I was working on the Wall.”

Chuck wisely kept his mouth shut. He’d learned the hard way that Raleigh was proud of that work; learned, too, that it had been one of the reasons Raleigh had been able to stay in shape and be mostly healthy for those five years away from the PPDC. He didn’t question the odd pronoun choice; that happened sometimes when Raleigh needed to distance himself from the events of his nightmare. “Well, you’re awake now, so do you want to do anything?”

Raleigh shook his head. “You go back to sleep. I’ll just read a bit.”

Chuck leaned over and kissed him gently. “Don’t stay up too long. Old man’s worried about something, so that probably means we have some VIP meeting tomorrow.”

Nodding, Raleigh reached for the paperback sitting on the nightstand and its companion book light, switching off the main light as he did so and then rearranging the pillows so he had back support. Chuck crawled back under the covers, one arm automatically reaching across to lie in Raleigh’s lap. He closed his eyes, and with the habit of a trained soldier, fell asleep quickly. 

With a quiet sigh, Raleigh waited he was sure Chuck was asleep before he slid out of bed. Undressing, he gave in to the urge he’d been fighting all night, shifting into wolf shape. Max woofed softly at him, and Raleigh acknowledged it with a soft woof of his own. Raleigh smiled, grateful that the old bulldog was more content to know that his masters were nearby than to sound any real alarm. Raleigh set his mental alarm to wake before Chuck did, and slid easily into sleep. He’d tell Chuck tomorrow about what he could do; he figured he had the right to keep it secret for a few weeks, considering how Chuck hadn’t been forthcoming about immortality.

* * *

The following morning, the massive surge of immortality swept through Chuck like a tidal wave and he swore. _Who the hell was in the ‘dome?_ he wondered. Whoever it was felt more powerful than Matthew McCormick, and that had been a summer shower by comparison.

“You okay?” Raleigh asked anxiously from where he’d been pulling clothes out of his dresser. He was moving slowly, as if his muscles were tired, and Chuck wondered if he’d gotten any sleep at all.

“Yeah, just…there’s another immortal in the building, really powerful,” Chuck said with a grimace. He breathed through the surge of recognition and tried to focus. He could barely feel his father, Richie, and Grace Chandel over the surge, and he knew abruptly he’d taken that low-level recognition for granted.

“You want me to stay put?” Raleigh asked anxiously just as a knock sounded on their door.

Chuck forced himself to grab his sword and answered the door. It had become courtesy for both him and his father to block each other out of their ghost Drift on Saturday mornings. Neither wanted to know that they were fucking their respective boyfriends, even if that was precisely what they were doing. Some things were better left private and not shared.

Herc and Richie were at the door, looking grim and focused. “Much as I’d rather you two didn’t leave this room,” Herc said, “Richie thinks it would be better if you came along.”

“To where?” 

“Conference Room 4,” Herc said, and led the way there.

* * *

Yancy was nervous. He was grateful that Connor, Duncan’s cousin, had turned out to be a man who didn’t mince words.

“You couldn’t tell me you found a werewolf?” Connor asked as they waited for Herc to arrive.

Duncan eyed his cousin. “Would you have believed me?” he asked dryly.

“Hell yes,” Connor said without hesitation. “But you’re going to have to explain why this one’s stuck as a wolf.” He gestured to Yancy. “And then you’re going to have to explain to Richie why you think he owes you any favors.”

Whatever Duncan might’ve said to that was stopped as Herc opened the door and stepped in. He looked just like Yancy remembered, strong and imposing and somehow more self-assured. He wore a short-sleeved t-shirt, his old Lucky Seven vest, and khaki shorts. Yancy cocked his head and looked a little more closely, and realized he could just see the outline of a sword hidden by the vest.

_Holy shit. Herc’s immortal,_ Yancy thought. _No wonder he doesn’t look like he’s aged._

For the first time since he’d gotten sick, Yancy wished he could shift and speak, but in human form, his lungs were too weak. Herc didn’t smell of ozone or magic the way the MacLeods did, but Yancy knew his sense of smell was messed up. Duncan had said that he smelled different, even among other immortals, since he was one of the stronger of his kind.

Then an unfamiliar man, also a redhead, looking all of about nineteen, stepped into the room. He carried no sword, but from the few pictures Duncan had of him, Yancy knew this to be the man Duncan considered his son: Richie. He smelled of strong magic the same way both MacLeods did, as if he too had been exposed to it and knew what it could do. Richie was dressed in a denim work shirt, the cuffs rolled up to mid-forearm, and jeans. Whatever weapons he had on him were concealed to even Yancy’s wolf-enhanced sight, which meant in Yancy’s estimation he was more dangerous than he appeared.

“Hello, Connor,” Richie said, then, in deliberate afterthought, he added, “Mac.”

Duncan looked annoyed at that, and Yancy knew he'd been hoping for something warmer. Yancy knew he wouldn't be underestimating Richie any time soon, and thought Duncan was being an idiot, a sentiment Connor shared, judging from the look he shot his cousin.

“Where have you been all these years?” Richie continued.

“Running a sheep farm north of Seattle,” Duncan replied calmly, “in an area where they cut power and water to force people to evacuate.”

As Richie spoke, Chuck entered the room, looking as defiant as ever. Like his father and Richie, he’d opted to wear what passed for PPDC-meeting-with-VIP-casual: an olive-green t-shirt, black jeans, and his signature triple-buckled boots. A tan vest emblazoned with Striker Eureka’s logo hid his sword from casual view.

_Well, that explains how he survived his jaeger blowing up_ , Yancy thought. He’d spent too much time in the last two years obsessing over every scrap of news about the surviving jaeger pilots, particularly his brother, staying up too late, running himself too ragged in the process, more vulnerable to getting sick. Penance, he’d thought at the time, for not bothering to try harder to find him. Yancy knew that Raleigh had a new role in the PPDC as co-director of jaeger pilot training, with Chuck. He knew Chuck had admitted to being in a relationship; knew that the gossip sites all claimed it was with Raleigh. He knew that all of the news had claimed that Raleigh couldn’t pilot with anyone again.

“And of course you didn’t leave,” Richie said sarcastically. “Because you don’t run.”

“I didn’t come here to fight with you, Richie,” Duncan replied. “Regardless of what’s happened between us, I came here because it was the right thing to do.”

“What’s that?” Herc asked. “And I’m sorry, you’d think we forgot our manners. I’m Herc and this is my son, Chuck. You must be Duncan MacLeod. Connor, I don’t think you’ve met my son.”

“No, never had the pleasure,” Connor said, shaking hands as his cousin did the same. “I’m sure you’ve heard this before, but congratulations on closing the Breach.”

“Didn’t do it alone,” Chuck admitted. “It was a team effort, but that last move was all Raleigh.”

“So now that we’ve the pleasantries out of the way,” Richie drawled, “what are you really here for and why do you have a giant dog with you?”

"Yancy Becket is alive, and needs help," Duncan declared.

While Duncan had been speaking, Raleigh stepped into the conference room and Yancy forgot how to breathe. Raleigh turned unerringly in his direction, and ignoring the immortals, who were all talking at once, went straight to where Yancy sat, doing his best impression of ‘I’m just an oversized dog, not a werewolf.’

For a long moment, Raleigh said nothing. He just stood there, head cocked to one side, before saying, “I could kill you right now, Yance. You’ve put me through hell, thinking you were dead.”

Yancy barked a protest and an apology.

“What are you doing?” Chuck demanded as he watched Raleigh move, faster than he normally did, toward the wolf. Within seconds, Raleigh was beside the animal, hugging him tight.

“Smart, that boy of yours,” Connor said, looking at Herc.

“He’s not my boy,” Herc protested, but he narrowed his eyes. “You’re telling me that wolf is Yancy.”

“He is,” Duncan said, grateful to be talking about the problem rather than keep dealing with the way Richie looked at him suspiciously. “He can’t shift because he’s been sick and in his human form, he’s sicker than what he’d be as a wolf. I haven’t been able to get him to a doctor I trust, plus Yancy’s fought me tooth and nail on whether he should see one. I thought –” and he looked to Richie now, “I thought Richie knew where to find Grace Chandel, an old friend of mine. She might be able to heal him.” He took a breath. “I’ve been trying to get Yancy to come here for two years. He thinks he’s not good enough to be here. Only reason I got him here now is because he’s sick enough that he can’t protest what I’m doing.”

Miffed at that wording, Yancy barked.

“Much,” Duncan amended.

“How do I know you’re not just pulling my leg?” Herc demanded.

Duncan hesitated, trying to find the right words.

Raleigh stared at the wolf; the wolf stared back, looking as though he was trying to apologize and hide at the same time. Chuck watched them, sensing that something was going on in that silent communication. Abruptly, Raleigh moved to the corner of the conference room as the wolf followed.

“Chuck, can you come here?” Raleigh asked.

Frowning, Chuck did as he was requested. If that wolf attacked Raleigh, Chuck wanted to be able to protect him, and he had a sword he wasn’t afraid to use.

“And stand right – ah, yeah, right there’s good.”

Raleigh shimmied out of his clothes as easily as any jaeger pilot about to put on a drive suit’s neural underlayer. He kissed Chuck in apology before taking a deep breath. With an audible crunch that made everyone except Duncan wince, Raleigh was suddenly the same wolf shape as the other animal in the room. 

_“Damn it, Raleigh, that’s not the way you’re supposed to tell people,”_ Yancy barked at him. 

Raleigh laughed, the sound coming out as a happy set of yips. “ _Oh, and you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you’re alive?”_ Raleigh shot back. “ _Or tell me that we’re werewolves? When you’re human, you are so going to pay for every sheep-chasing dream I’ve ever had.”_

_“I didn’t know! Jaz knew but Mama made her swear not to tell us.”_

Aware of the eyes upon them, Raleigh lingered a moment, enjoying the fact that he finally understood that he’d been really hearing his brother all of the years. He wasn’t crazy; he wasn’t ghost Drifting with a ghost. Slowly, he became aware of Yancy’s ragged breathing and pressed against his brother in concern. Looking at Yancy anxiously, Raleigh whined.

_“It’s why I’m here,”_ Yancy told him.

Nodding, Raleigh took a deep breath and shifted back to human. Ignoring his shirt for the moment, Raleigh slipped on his jeans and looked to where Chuck stood.

“When were you going to mention you could do that?” Chuck demanded.

“Um, today?” Raleigh said apologetically. “I figured out that since I lost my mom’s ring, I was having more sheep-related dreams and then one night, I, uh, shifted in my sleep. You thought I was Max. That was six weeks ago, and I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure I knew what I was doing.”

Herc sighed. “Because we didn’t tell you about immortality right away,” he surmised.

Raleigh nodded. “Figured I had the right to keep it to myself.”

“Would you have told me today?” Chuck demanded.

“Chuck, you’re missing the point,” Herc noted. Looking at Duncan, he asked, “Did you know about this sort of thing before?”

“Yes, though I can’t remember if I mentioned werewolves to Richie or not.”

“Connor mentioned it to me,” Richie offered. “I didn’t believe him.”

“Still not willing to take things on faith?” Duncan asked.

“Not when it got me exposed to demons,” Richie shot back. “And that’s a discussion for another day.”

Herc took his cue. “Raleigh, that’s your brother?” he asked briskly.

Raleigh nodded. “Can we get him to Dr. Chandel please? He sounds awful. I’m surprised you can’t hear him.”

“Not all of us have werewolf hearing,” Duncan noted.

“All right,” Herc said. “Raleigh, you know the way. Richie and Chuck, would you please go with them and let Grace know what she’s dealing with?”

“Yancy’s been living with me. I should go with them,” Duncan began.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Herc said coolly. “You and I need to talk first.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Don’t say anything,” Richie snapped at Chuck as Raleigh lifted Yancy into his arms over his protests and headed towards the Shatterdome’s clinic.

Chuck opened his mouth but shut it after looking at the older immortal and glancing at his boyfriend. Raleigh had that determined look about him, as if he was going to plow through this obstacle, and deal with it later. Chuck remembered that look; it had been the same as what Raleigh had worn before Operation Pitfall.

Grace wasn’t in the clinic. It was Saturday, and she and her staff usually volunteered in the city’s international aid clinic, which initially had been set up to deal with refugees and those hurt in the kaiju attacks, and continued to serve the city’s underprivileged and non-Cantonese-speaking population. Richie requested that she be paged back to the clinic, claiming a medical emergency. 

Chuck looked at his boyfriend, who had set Yancy down on the floor and was sitting beside him, petting him as if he was going to suddenly vanish. The longer he watched them, the more Chuck got upset. It wasn’t right that Yancy could come back like this and Raleigh just accepted it as though all the pain he’d suffered was nothing. Nor did feel right that Raleigh had known about being a werewolf for weeks, pretending that he was just having bad nightmares. “Thought he wasn’t a dog.”

Raleigh shot him a withering look and didn’t dignify it with an answer.

“Careful what you say,” Richie warned Chuck. 

“I’m not saying anything,” Chuck shot back. “Just figured you’d be more upset.”

“I am,” Raleigh said coolly. “Someone who had the knowledge and connections to let me know that my brother was alive didn’t, but I can’t change that fact.”

Yancy barked a protest, the long string of vocalization ending in a breathless panting.

“Bullshit he was respecting your wishes,” Raleigh said. “He got you here easily enough. You think he couldn’t have before? Or were you just that fucking scared?”

“Why don’t you wait to get mad at him until after Grace has looked at him?” Richie suggested tactfully. “Let him have the lung capacity to really talk to you? That barking doesn’t sound like it’s good for him to talk.”

“What? Afraid I’m going to hurt him?” Raleigh exploded. “I might get my punches in later but I’m not going to kill him. Don’t you sit there and think you’re so virtuous, Richie. I could’ve known my brother was alive years ago. All you had to do was talk to one Duncan fucking MacLeod.”

“Raleigh,” Richie began.

“Just leave,” Raleigh growled. “Go back and protect Herc, because that’s what you’re good at. It’s what you want to do anyway, not stand here.”

Richie hesitated. “Raleigh, I’ll stay here until Grace comes.”

“Whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway,” Raleigh replied.

Chuck looked at his boyfriend, recognizing the desire to push everyone away. That said everything to Chuck, and some of his own hurt over not being told of Raleigh’s newfound abilities dissipated. “Raleigh love, it’s not Richie’s fault if he didn’t know Yancy was alive.”

“No? Then why the fuck didn’t you?” Raleigh demanded.

“Duncan tried to kill me, and whenever he’s shown up in my life, trouble follows,” Richie replied. “So I’ve kept him at arm’s length.”

From the look on Raleigh’s face, he wasn’t happy with that answer. “He should’ve tried to tell you anyway.”

“I might not have believed him. Raleigh, I knew about werewolves but it was an abstract, like the way I knew about demons until one showed up and made my life hell. Did you know about werewolves?”

Raleigh closed his eyes briefly. “Not until six weeks ago and I turned into one. I didn’t want to tell anyone until I was sure. I thought you’d think I was high, especially since I got prescribed those new PTSD meds.”

“I wouldn’t,” Chuck protested.

Raleigh looked at him.

“Okay, so maybe, but I would’ve gone and asked Richie for advice,” Chuck hastened to assure him.

“Would you have believed anyone before then?” Richie countered.

“You ask me to believe that you’re immortal,” Raleigh replied curtly. “And I’ve been told so many times that I’m ghost Drifting with a ghost that I believe ghosts exist.” He glared at Richie. “So yeah. I probably would have. Don’t you know I would’ve given anything to know my brother wasn’t dead?”

“I get that, Raleigh, but I’m telling you, I didn’t know he was with Duncan.”

“No, of course not, because that would’ve meant you had to talk to him,” Raleigh sneered.

“I can’t forget what he did,” Richie shot back. “Or how he keeps thinking I’m a huge disappointment.”

“Because you let him,” Raleigh retorted. 

“How was Richie supposed to know?” Chuck felt the need to intercede. “You know better than us that there were places where the infrastructure fell apart during the war. Richie, did Duncan say where he was?”

Richie nodded. “In one of the evacuation zones, so even if he had power and water, he wouldn’t have phone service or reliable Internet. Raleigh, what would you have me do?”

“I don’t know!” Raleigh exploded. “I don’t care if Yancy needed to hide out for the last seven years. I just know that my brother is here and he’s sick and I don’t want you sitting here looking at us like we’re freaks. I’m not broken and he’s not dead and we don’t need your fucking pity.” 

Yancy nudged his brother. Chuck had never seen a wolf look reproachful before, but that look was unmistakable for anything else. Seeing how agitated his boyfriend was getting, Chuck decided it would be better if Richie left. “Why don’t you go see how my old man’s doing,” he suggested. “Whatever they’re discussing, I’m sure we need to know.”

“Raleigh, if I’d known, I would’ve done anything to make sure you two were reunited,” Richie said before he left. “You know there’s little I won’t do to make sure my family’s safe and happy, and I consider you to be a part of that.”

Raleigh still looked as though he wanted to cast blame, and Chuck couldn’t quite bring himself to argue against that idea. Still, he knew he wanted to offer what comfort he could. “I had nothing to do with keeping Yancy’s existence a secret. You going to bite my head off if I stay?”

“No,” Raleigh said shortly. “Grace might believe me more if you were here.” 

* * *

“I don’t treat dogs, I’ve told you this before,” Grace began after she arrived in the clinic fifteen minutes later and saw who was waiting for her.

“He’s not a dog; he’s a werewolf, and he’s my brother,” Raleigh shot back. “And he’s sick.”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “A werewolf? I haven’t seen one in centuries.”

“But you know how to treat them?” Chuck asked, suspecting that Raleigh was one wrong word away from taking his brother and running.

“He’s still mostly human,” Grace said. “Let’s not waste any more time. Bring him in here and lay him down on the bed then.” She gestured to the inpatient room behind her.

Raleigh followed her instructions. 

“Can he shift? It’ll be easier for me to treat him.”

With a deep, wracking breath, Yancy shifted, revealing he was very thin and pale. 

“What’s your name?” she asked Yancy as she pulled out her stethoscope. 

“Yancy Becket,” he replied, panting.

“Do you know what you got exposed to?”

“Some kind of virus,” Yancy managed. He coughed, the sound unlike anything Chuck had ever heard before, and looked pained. “I breathe better when I’m a wolf.”

“I need you to stay human for me,” Grace said, clearly thinking on her feet. “Otherwise, I can’t treat you because it sounds like your body’s trying to fix itself, the long, slow way, which could kill you. Can you do that for me or do you need to shift back? If you need to stay shifted, we’ll get a vet here and pretend you’re a wolf.”

“Mac tried that,” Yancy panted. “Vet thought I should be put down.”

“Yance, you don’t need to be a tough guy. She’s not impressed by that,” Raleigh told him.

Grace spared Raleigh and Chuck a look. “Chuck, you can leave; you’re immune. Send in my staff; we need to get Yancy’s breathing regulated. Raleigh, I need you to stay since you’ve been exposed at this point.”

Chuck stepped back but didn’t leave. He watched as the staff swarmed around the Beckets, giving Yancy oxygen and performing blood tests to see if the cause of his infection could be determined. Raleigh was soon quarantined as a precaution and moved to a bed next to his brother. He protested, saying he was fine, but he accepted the limitation as a condition of being near his brother.

Within half an hour, Yancy’s condition was stabilized. Grace left the room to prep more medicine. It didn’t take long after that for the brothers to occupy the same bed. Aware of his own need to connect with his copilot and snuggle, Chuck helped with keeping the oxygen, saline, and monitoring wires untangled until both men were comfortable.

Grace chose then to arrive. “Raleigh, this is not helping your brother.”

“Yes, it is,” Raleigh insisted. 

“Better let them be,” Chuck advised her. “They’ve been ghost Drifting for years. Be easier if you let them get adjusted.”

Grace sighed. “Jaeger pilots,” she said, shaking her head. “All right then. Raleigh, I want to administer this shot, so you’re going to have to make sure I can get to your brother’s thigh. It’s a broad-spectrum antibiotic, Yancy. We’ll see how you respond to this. My lab tech is processing your blood samples and we’ll know for sure what treatment to take.”

“We got vaccinated as kids and as pilots,” Raleigh spoke up. “The PPDC wanted to be sure we stayed healthy.”

Grace nodded. “But you wouldn’t be immunized against the things that affect wolves and other canines unless your parents knew to do so. That wouldn’t show up in your records because it would raise alarms.”

Raleigh sighed. “Makes sense.” He turned to his brother. “Don’t suppose you know if we did?”

Yancy shook his head. The breathing apparatus Grace had strapped onto his face didn’t allow him to talk, and she’d warned against it anyway.

Grace administered the shot, then said, “I’ll be back in an hour. I need to examine the results and figure out what we can do for you. Raleigh, if you start feeling unwell, please let me know immediately. Chuck, if anything changes with these two, get me.”

Chuck nodded and pulled up a chair. “You want me to get you anything?” he asked the brothers.

“I’ll let you know,” Raleigh said. He took a deep breath. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Rather not be in that conference room right now. My old man’s irked and getting more annoyed by the minute,” Chuck told him. “Besides, I don’t want you thinking I abandoned either of you. But when you two are out of this place and feeling better, we’re going to have words about keeping secrets.”

Raleigh looked relieved. “Payback’s a bitch and it has puppies?” he joked.

“Something like that,” Chuck agreed. He knew nothing was settled yet; by his way of thinking, it wouldn’t be until either someone won a kwoon match or said their apologies, probably a little bit of both. He knew, too, he’d been owed that exclusion by his actions over his immortality. He couldn’t find it in himself to be that pissed anymore, not when the more he thought about the situation, the more he realized he would’ve probably done the same. So he did what he could to show that Raleigh was forgiven, in his typical fashion.

“And Yancy? Welcome back. We could’ve used you in Operation Pitfall. Might not have had to Drift with Stacker Pentecost if you’d been here.”

“Don’t pay that any attention,” Raleigh confided. “He only says that because he didn’t want Mako to be a pilot.”

That got a raised eyebrow from Yancy.

“Only because she’s my best friend,” Chuck said defensively. “And I didn’t want her Drifting with just anyone.”

“Speaking of – would you let her know we’re here?” Raleigh asked. “I know she’s worried and I was supposed to go out with her for lunch.”

Suspecting his boyfriend wanted a few moments alone with his brother, Chuck nodded and reached for his phone. “I’ll be right back,” he said.


	11. Chapter 11

Connor leaned back in his chair, much to Duncan’s annoyance, and looked as though he looked forward to the show.

“Before we begin,” Herc said, steel in his voice, “I want you know where I stand. I’ve heard Richie’s side of what happened to him thanks to you, and I believe he has every right to feel the way he does. Whether or not I agree with him on those feelings is not relevant right now. I will say this: Richie was one of my jaeger techs on both Lucky Seven and on Striker Eureka; he’s currently the chief jaeger technician for the PPDC. He helped raise my son and trained both Chuck and me in how to be an immortal. He’s also my lover.” Herc smiled thinly. “My son loves Raleigh and will do anything to keep him safe and happy.”

Duncan hadn’t been expecting that. He’d figured that perhaps Richie was helping with maintenance or something like that, nothing as major as the responsibility he appeared to hold. Nor had he expected the tangled relationships – or Herc’s directness. All of the press he’d ever seen regarding Herc Hansen had focused more on how arrogant his son was, and how Herc had to be either some kind of hero for piloting every generation of jaeger or a father who’d willingly agreed to let his son be a child soldier. Duncan glanced at Connor and abruptly realized just why his cousin was not happy. Few people pleased the elder Highlander more than those who were direct, which meant that Connor liked the Hansens, which meant he’d really, really needed to get in touch sooner.

“Now I don’t care what you’ve been doing for Yancy, to him, with him, or on his behalf. As long as what you were doing was safe, relatively sane, consensual, and did not involve anything Yancy would be embarrassed to share in a Drift.”

Duncan was startled at that last qualifier. “I can’t speak for him on that last one,” he admitted. “I know there are some things he hasn’t wanted to confide in me about.”

“Immortal things he’s witnessed or war-related?” Herc asked. “I know there were reports of looting and local abuses of power in the evacuation zones.”

Duncan nodded. “War-related in that regard, yes. We tried to do our best for our neighbors, and it made us a target for the hooligans with uniforms.”

“Was Yancy hurt?” Connor asked.

Duncan sighed. “He was shot, as was I, and he had to defend me. We both recovered in different ways.”

Herc didn’t seem surprised by that news; he’d clearly expected worse. “What do you plan to do now that you’ve reunited him with his brother and have gotten him to a doctor?”

“I have a hotel room in the city and planned to stay until Yancy was better,” Duncan said. “I just want to be sure that Yancy is okay. It’s been rough rebuilding the neighborhood – there are still areas that are off limits, but that doesn’t stop people from moving in anyway because they’re too broke to go anywhere else. It’s my fault he got exposed to someone who was sick. I didn’t think it would affect him since he was vaccinated, but he hasn’t been able to shake this infection, so I don’t know what it is.”

Herc looked at him. “And that’s it? You just want Yancy to be healthy?”

“I’ll support him any way he chooses,” Duncan replied evenly. “He has a home on my farm with me. I raise sheep for meat and milk.”

“Chasing sheep?” Herc asked dryly.

“And protecting the farm,” Duncan said. “It hasn’t been easy living in a Pacific Rim city. I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but desperate men try desperate things. That’s how I found Yancy.”

“Right. Because an entire network of civilian and military ships, well-equipped PPDC soldiers, and a grateful, mobilized community couldn’t find him,” Herc shot back.

“He was found by kaiju parts salvagers,” Duncan returned. “They thought he was a dead wolf and traded him to a witch for medicine. I stumbled upon him in the process of trying to help a friend. The witch would’ve killed him for his blood.”

“Why?”

“Because werewolves can survive most things,” Duncan replied. “Respiratory illnesses, if not caught in time, can be fatal for them. It makes witches think that if they can bottle a werewolf’s blood and say the right incantations, it’ll heal others.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” Connor added. “Only a werewolf can heal another werewolf.”

“And in all these years, you couldn’t contact the PPDC? Didn’t you know where Richie was?”

“I did, but thought he’d left the PPDC and went wandering again. Amanda said he’d left after your jaeger was destroyed, and Nick didn’t know where he was. Usually Nick does, but then he told me that they weren’t together anymore. He figured Richie was upset about what happened to you and Scott Hansen. Plus, Yancy heard that the PPDC was looking for Raleigh to do neural testing, and he feared that if he kept looking, Raleigh would wind up being a lab rat and mistreated as a result.”

“That still leaves a few years to account for,” Herc returned.

“What do you want me to say?” Duncan said, irritated. “I wasn’t going to force Yancy to go if he didn’t want to go. I was a little busy trying to keep my farm intact. I wasn’t interested in the machinations of the Game or even trying to keep in touch with anyone. We were just trying to survive, and trying to help our neighbors do the same.”

Herc stared at him. He wanted to believe, but the answers were a little too pat for his taste. Connor didn’t seem too happy with Duncan’s answers either.

“You could’ve called me sooner,” Connor pointed out.

“Cory told me you were busy with some secret PPDC thing,” Duncan shot back.

“Yeah,” Connor said dryly, “secret only because I didn't want to tell him. Haven’t you figured out that one of the ways Cory avoids playing the Game is by trading information? You know I always take your calls, Duncan. If Yancy hadn’t gotten sick, you would’ve kept on hiding out from the world on that farm."

“I wasn’t hiding –” Duncan began.

“You’ve been hiding out since you thought you took my head back in 2000, and the only reason you haven’t been on holy ground is because you thought maybe you deserved the fights you thought you were going to get,” Connor snapped. “If the kaiju hadn’t attacked and Cory started using your farm for a landing point, I’m not sure I’d know you were alive.”

“You can’t make me believe that,” Duncan said incredulously. “You’re more connected to the mystical than I am.”

Suspecting the two could continue that line of argument forever, Herc barked, “On point. So you were trying to live simply and just happened to find Yancy. Did you ever plan on letting Raleigh know or were you just waiting until you knew where Richie was?”

Duncan looked uncomfortable at the insinuation.

“Tell him the rest, Duncan,” Connor warned, his voice heavy with innuendo.

Duncan shifted uneasily just as Richie stepped in the room and took the seat next to Herc. “So, have we determined it’s a demon, a witch, or just some headhunter?” he asked sardonically.

“That’s the problem,” Duncan admitted. “I don’t know. It’s just whispers of trouble. I’ve been trying to stay out of the Game and the war. All I know for sure is that both Yancy and I were killed by plasma rifles a few years back, and there are rumors some headhunter is using them to eliminate enemies. It’s…not a good way to die, and it took me most of a day to heal. Yancy was…” He shuddered, the memory clearly horrific, even with the distance of time. “Yancy’s only alive because he’s a werewolf and because I’ve had combat medic training. I’m certain, given the damage, that if you took someone’s head off, they wouldn’t be coming back. The sheep they killed were just splatters on the ground. Yancy’s bruises didn’t fade for a week, and I made sure he shifted and slept every twelve hours, just to make sure he healed properly.”

Connor studied him before looking at Herc and Richie. “I’ll make a few calls. Be back shortly.” Without waiting for permission, he slipped out of the room.

“Richie, I’m sorry,” Duncan began, but Richie held up a hand.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he said. “So we have a power-hungry headhunter, name unknown. You’re here and Connor’s here, so that means that whoever it is will know within a few days, given how the grapevine among our kind works.” He looked pissed. “Did you even consider that we have a ‘dome full of people who don’t even know immortals exist before you decided to show up? Or did you even think we wouldn’t come to you if you said you had Yancy Becket and he was sick?”

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Duncan said quietly.

The tension in the room was a palatable thing, and Herc could nearly taste it. Still, he wanted to be sure he had the facts laid out before Richie’s anger exploded even further. “Have services been restored to where you live?” Herc asked carefully.

Duncan shook his head. “My farm is off the grid – solar and geothermal power, with its own well. I had fiber optic cable laid for Internet and cable TV, but the local provider is insisting my farm doesn’t exist in their service region, even though I’m only a mile away from someone who is.”

“So you could drive to your neighbor’s and maybe make a videocall.”

“I didn’t want them listening in,” Duncan pointed out. “And surely you have places you can fight?”

“You mean die,” Richie snarled. “Because that’s what you’re telling us. Well, you can get the fuck out and take your damn headhunter with you, because we don’t need your kind of trouble or your fucking heroics.”

“Richie –” Herc began, only to have his boyfriend round on him.

“You don’t understand,” Richie said passionately, rising out of his chair and slamming his hand on the table. “You don’t know what he’s brought here. I don’t need to know what it is exactly to know that it’s bad. Every fucking time Duncan MacLeod’s been in my life, I’ve wound up the damsel in distress and I’m tired of it. I don’t need that shit in my life. I’m not going to forget that the only reason I’m not dead is because Connor saw a vision where I was dead by his cousin’s hand, trapped by a fucking demon’s machinations – and as it was, another minute, I would’ve been dead, forever. I wake up sometimes and I still have to work through the fucking panic over that, and it’s been decades.” 

“Richie, I’m sorry –” Duncan started to say.

“So am I,” Richie snapped. “Sorry I ever believed that being around you was the greatest thing. Sorry that I can’t forget that you came after my head three times. Sorry that I can’t and won’t be anyone you think I ought to be. I can’t live like that don’t you see? You paint a target on my back every fucking time you call me your son, and they come, hoping to draw you out, hoping that my Quickening will be the thing that gives them that edge to beat you. So yeah, I kill in your name and I’m tired of it.”

Duncan inhaled sharply at that, as if he hadn’t considered that to be in the realm of possibility. “You should tell them to come to me.”

“And hide behind your name?” Richie sneered. “The way I used to before I wised up and learned that I hated myself less if I took the challenge? I’m not a child, Duncan, and I know when to walk away from a challenge. I’ve worked too fucking hard to be better than what anyone thinks of me and I thought I was safe.” He looked to Herc. “I thought _we_ were safe, don’t you get it, Herc? We just went through someone wanting your blood for some fucked-up notion of immortality. Do you know what’ll happen if they know Raleigh and Yancy are werewolves? They’ll want to breed them and bleed them and –” 

Herc reached for Richie’s hand. “I don’t have to; I can hear it in your voice, love.” He turned to Duncan, who looked troubled by the ramifications he was hearing. _Good,_ Herc thought viciously, _and maybe you can start using those centuries of experience for something other than being a sheep farmer._ Herc believed in being a reasonable man, however, and he knew if he was in Duncan’s shoes what he’d want, so he offered it. “If you leave a number with the reception desk, we’ll let you know how Yancy is, but I think it would be best if you left now.”

With a resigned sigh, Duncan nodded and rose, just as Connor returned. 

“Did you find anything out?” Herc asked.

Connor shook his head. “Nothing concrete yet, but Nick confirms that he’s been hearing rumors, too.” His gaze took in the way Richie looked furious and Herc’s unsubtle grip on Richie’s hand. He addressed Herc. “I’m sorry, Hercules.”

“Family’s family,” Herc returned, reaching for the phone on the table to call security guards to escort them out. “But we’d appreciate it if maybe you two turned off the headhunting immortal homing beacon and send it somewhere else far away from here.”

Connor acknowledged that with a nod. “We’ll do some looking and let you know. If we can take care of it without it harming you or yours, we will. Come on, cousin; you heard the man.” His tone brooked no argument, though Duncan opened his mouth to and was silenced with a look.

The security guards arrived promptly. As soon as the door shut behind them, Richie sagged back in the chair and put his head in his free hand. He sat like that for a while before looking at Herc. “He’s not going to leave, Herc.”

“I know. But as you’ve reminded me before, we’ve stacked the deck as much as we can, and the rest is up to us. Come on, let’s go to the clinic.”

Richie shook his head. “You go. I’m –” he drew a breath and let it out “– I’m going to see about beefing up security. I’ll see you in a few hours. I…” He breathed in deeply again. “I need to feel like I’m doing something rather than sitting here and feeling like I’m hiding.”

Herc kissed him. “Be careful, love, and tell Jeremy to be careful, too.” He studied Richie a moment. “Do you trust that Connor can handle his cousin?”

“I do, but…” Richie took a deep breath. “I’m more afraid of what they find. Besides, I’m not comfortable with either one of them telling me that they’ll handle it and we’re supposed to just sit back and wait.”

Herc half-smiled at that. “Good point. I’ll go with you and we’ll see if Jeremy learned anything from Matthew’s visit, because I’m sure he had opinions on how to make our security better. If nothing else, that’ll give Raleigh a chance to yell at his brother without us as part of the audience.”

Richie winced. “That’s not going to go well, is it? He just went into ‘my brother’s injured, I need to take care of him’ mode.”

“It’s what you do with a brother when you love them. Then you wait for them to heal up so you can add your own bruises.”

Richie glanced at him. “You miss Scott.”

“Sometimes,” Herc agreed readily. “If he’d been the man he was when we signed up to pilot, he’d have gotten a kick out of watching Chuck fall in love. But as you pointed out, I can’t fix a man who thought he needed more than what life gave him – and life gave him a lot.”

In contemplative silence, they made their way over to the ‘dome’s security office. Both knew that they were going to have to balance personal freedom with paranoia – but Herc didn’t think anyone in their little circle was going to be inclined to be going out into the city anytime soon.


	12. Chapter 12

While Chuck was out, a nurse came in and introduced herself. She was a stocky woman with brown skin and black hair, and spoke with a slight Russian accent. “I’m Olena; I’ll be your nurse today. Raleigh, Dr. Chandel wants to be sure we have a baseline on you.”

“I’m okay,” Raleigh protested.

“Humor us,” Olena said firmly. “You know how Dr. Chandel will fuss.”

Familiarity with the clinic personnel apparently counted for something, Yancy noticed. His brother didn’t bother arguing the point beyond that token protest. That meant that the staff knew Raleigh and, likely, his old habit of avoiding the ‘dome’s medical staff. Yancy remembered that his brother had grown to dislike the staff in Anchorage, who had been almost too eager to get their hands on the pilots for ‘monitoring checkups.’ Dr. Chandel and her staff’s professionalism were reassuring.

Efficiently, Olena took Raleigh’s pulse, temperature, and blood pressure. She then went through a symptom checklist before checking the monitoring lines connected to Yancy. “All right you two. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Message delivered,” Chuck said, coming back into the room just as Olena exited it. “Dr. Chandel said as long as one of you had access to the nurse call button that I should leave you two be. For your reference, there’s one on each side rail of the bed, so you should be covered.”

Raleigh shook his head. “No, I’m good, and thanks.”

Chuck studied him. “You’re not just saying that so you can beat him up without an audience?”

“Why, did you want to watch?” Raleigh shot back.

“No,” Chuck said shortly. “But I have a vested interest in you, remember?”

Raleigh looked at him. “I’ll behave.” His tone indicated he wasn’t too sure of Yancy, which annoyed Yancy.

Chuck half-smiled at that, as if he knew just how far he could push Raleigh. “You do that.” With careful maneuvering, he managed to kiss Raleigh goodbye before leaving.

“Where’s your new copilot?” Yancy managed after Chuck left.

“Probably waiting until you’re better to visit. She has better timing than me. And shouldn’t you keep that mask on?”

“Can’t ask you questions.”

Raleigh glared at him. “Don’t piss me off, Yancy. I’m already angry as it is that you were with someone who could’ve told me you were alive and didn’t. Plus, there’s shit we haven’t discussed yet, like how long you’ve known you were a werewolf and if you got to talk to our sister before she died, and how you falling out of the conn-pod left me thinking I was ghost Drifting with a fucking ghost, and yeah, I’m already pissed off. So don’t fucking push it or I might just forget you sound like you’ve got the cough from hell.”

Yancy had rarely heard his brother sound so coldly furious. The last time he’d heard him like that, they’d fought over dating the same woman. Yancy eyed him warily.

“Would you be more pissed off if I said I did talk to Jaz?”

“Yes,” Raleigh growled, and glared at him.

Realizing he had no idea how good his brother’s control was over his ability to shift, Yancy decided keeping his mouth shut was the better choice. He was out of breath anyway.

Olena came back about an hour later and disconnected the blood pressure monitor from Yancy. “Looks like you’re just a little high,” she said. “I’ll check you again, but I wanted to free you up so you could use the toilet. All you’re connected to now is an IV and the nebulizer lines, which are on this rolling stand –” she gestured behind the bed “- so just be careful climbing out of bed. Toilet’s in the corner by the door, in case you haven’t figured that out yet.” She smiled easily.

Several hours passed before Grace determined that what Yancy had was a case of ‘something so close to whooping cough it might as well be’, strep, and an intestinal infection. His werewolf physiology had been trying to fight it, but between his diet and exposure to well water, he’d been caught in an endless cycle of not being quite well enough to fight it off. She took him off the nebulizer, listened to his breathing, and gave him a dose of antibiotics. “If you feel you need the nebulizer again, call me,” she advised. “You’re sounding better.”

Once the source of Yancy’s illness was determined and Dr. Chandel determined that Raleigh was not currently suffering any ill effects, Raleigh was freed from quarantine. Unlike Yancy, he’d had his vaccinations renewed recently and was immune from whooping cough. Yancy caught something about his brother needing to stick to his routine, which he didn’t understand.

“But I want to be near him,” Raleigh said. “I haven’t seen him in years and we have to talk.”

“You can come visit tomorrow, but you are not sleeping here tonight,” Grace said firmly. “Do not make me have Chuck come get you. And do not come slinking back here as a wolf, either. I’m guessing you two can communicate that way and not need to speak. You can argue about why he stayed away so long some other day, but you do not need to hash it out tonight. Now, please remove yourself from that bed so I can examine my patient.”

Raleigh sighed and removed himself from the bed, with some assistance from Dr. Chandel. “Can we at least get Yancy a tablet so we can chat?”

“Tomorrow,” Grace said firmly. “I know you think he’s going to disappear, but I promise you he won’t, unless he’s learned magic.”

Yancy shook his head furiously.

“He needs rest tonight, not worry over you.”

“I doubt he’s worried that much over me in years,” Raleigh noted dryly.

“He wouldn’t have let you cling to him if he didn’t care,” Dr. Chandel noted. “Now, don’t make me ask again.”

 _Go do what you need to do, little bro. I’ll be here,_ Yancy thought. He’d been surprised that Raleigh could understand his barking, but he suspected it was like the way they could retain a measure of telepathy from the Drift right after they’d been in one.

Raleigh didn’t seem to hear him as he shot Dr. Chandel a grumpy look before departing.

“Now,” Grace said briskly, “how are you feeling, Yancy?”

“Like I have to shift,” he admitted, coughing as he spoke. “I’m supposed to do it every twelve hours so I don’t get stuck as a wolf for days.”

“If I’m interpreting things correctly, you gain a bit more lung capacity and some healing as a wolf?”

Yancy nodded. “It’s been wearing me out to shift, which is why I stayed a wolf by choice. I thought at first it would fix what was wrong, but I just got more tired and coughed more.”

“Are you okay with getting a bath while you’re a wolf?”

Yancy blinked. “I don’t have fleas!” he said indignantly.

“No, but your fur, just like your skin, will have trapped bacteria. I’m sure Mac hosed you down every so often with a good anti-flea solution to make sure you didn’t have fleas or ticks, since you were hanging around sheep and outdoors, but that’s not quite enough. I want to be sure you don’t reinfect yourself, which may have been happening every time you shifted.”

Realizing it made sense, Yancy agreed. The patient care room was set up with an ensuite bathroom capable of handling a wheelchair-bound patient, so it was large enough for wolf!Yancy and Grace. She scrubbed him down thoroughly, making him realize two things. One, it had been a very long time since he’d had anyone touch him. Two, he was going to have to figure out how to wash himself in his wolf form, because she was right: cleaning his fur was different than cleaning his skin. He hadn’t even realized just how dirty his fur had gotten; it took several rinses before the water ran clear. When she was done, she used several towels and a blow dryer to dry him off, which also added to his feeling of being finally clean and warm.

“Tomorrow, we’ll see how you feel about a shower with proper soap, shampoo, and filtered water,” Grace told him, helping him back in bed and redoing his IV and monitoring devices.

“Mac made soap,” Yancy protested.

Grace snorted. “I’ve used his soap. Sheep’s milk isn’t everything. Mine’s better,” she told him. “Cleaned you right up, didn’t it?”

Yancy couldn’t argue with that, but he was not going to bring that up to Duncan. He had a feeling there was a bit of one-upmanship going on, and he did not want to get in the middle of it anymore than he already was.

At Grace’s request, Yancy shifted to his wolf form before she left. She wanted to make sure that the monitoring equipment did not get too dislodged by his new form. She was pleased to discover that they didn’t require more than a bit more line, which made Yancy relieved. He had not been looking forward to having to spend the night without something to alert her if he went into respiratory distress. The Frenchwoman then turned down the light and left him alone.

In the darkness, Yancy lay awake, wondering just where he was going to fit in this new life his brother had made, and if he really would be better of leaving when Duncan did. Raleigh had a new copilot, a boyfriend, and if Yancy missed his guess, the father figure he’d always wanted: Herc. All Yancy had to offer were stories of people dying and endless days of herding sheep, and stupid werewolf tricks. What could Raleigh possibly want with those? Plus, Raleigh said he was angry, and Yancy remembered just how his brother could hold a grudge. It was a long time before Yancy slept.

* * *

Chuck fully expected his boyfriend to be in the kwoon, taking his frustration out on one of the boxing bags, but he wasn’t there. Mako’s door was propped partially open as she often did when she didn’t mind visitors. Experience told Chuck to try there and indeed, Raleigh was there.

Raleigh was curled up against her in wolf form on the chair-and-a-half that served as her favorite place to sit when she wasn’t at her desk.

“I take it he doesn’t want to talk?” Chuck asked, pulling up her desk chair and straddling it.

Mako shook her head. “He said he was tired and wanted to sleep, but that he wanted to show me who he was first. I didn’t understand what he meant until he shifted.” She kept one hand lightly on Raleigh’s head.

“Are you shocked?”

Mako paused, considering. “I am surprised,” she admitted, “but not shocked. The kaiju are not a threat, you’re alive, and you’re in love the way you once told me was only for fairy tales and movies. Also, Yancy is not dead. That is more shocking.”

Chuck grinned. “Ever the pragmatic, Mako.”

She allowed a small smile. “I have often thought that if Yancy were to be alive, it would have to be magic or miracles. I hoped maybe he would be like you, just hiding out somewhere so people wouldn’t notice he doesn’t age.” She looked down at her copilot before meeting Chuck’s eyes. “Maybe this way is better. Then none of you will be alone when I am gone.”

“Oi, geezus, Mako, way to remind me you’re not going to live forever,” Chuck complained.

“I do not mind,” Mako hastened to assure him. “As Sensei reminded me, life is only as long as you make it. Best to live it to the fullest.”

“Yeah, well, I think you and I need to figure out the care and feeding of werewolves, because I don’t think they’re going to tell us,” Chuck said. “And Mako?”

She looked up at him, the hand that had been absently stroking Raleigh stopping.

“Quit lying. You’re shocked. You just don’t want anyone to know.”

She laughed softly. “So I am,” she admitted. “It’s not every day I see something I only read in stories. But it does no good to stay that way. How are you doing?”

Chuck sighed. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “I thought maybe this kind of stuff was not anything he’d be a part of, and I didn’t think he’d tell you right away.”

Mako considered this. “Because you have secrets you don’t share with me.”

Chuck nodded. “But he is and will always be your copilot, so I guess it’s not a surprise he’d want to tell you after he told me.” Chuck paused. “I should also tell you that Yancy is alive, but he’s sick and currently in the clinic.”

“Your father stopped by earlier and told me,” Mako said with a nod. “He said Yancy wouldn’t be allowed visitors until Dr. Chandel was sure he was breathing comfortably.” She looked at Chuck. “Is he like Raleigh?”

“What do you think?”

Mako smiled. “I think you learned discretion a little too well,” she said tartly. “What happened to the blunt-speaking man I used to know?”

“He found out he had something to lose if he didn’t wield words more thoughtfully,” Chuck replied. “Speaking of, I should take my guy home and talk.”

Mako nodded and gently shook Raleigh awake.

Upon waking, Raleigh looked as though he didn’t want to leave.

“Come on, love,” Chuck urged. “You and I have some talking to do of our own.”

Raleigh carefully jumped down from the chair. He shifted, picked up his clothes, and headed across the hall, clearly uncaring if anyone saw him naked in the hallway.

Mako looked at Chuck. “He’s definitely in a mood.”

Chuck blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

* * *

“Are you upset with me?” Raleigh said as soon as Chuck shut the door to his room.

“For not telling me you could become something else?” Chuck asked. “Yeah, because that’s six weeks we could’ve been figuring this stuff out together.”

“You didn’t tell me about immortality,” Raleigh shot back as he donned a pair of boxer shorts.

“No, because I’d been keeping it a secret for so long I didn’t know where to begin to tell you,” Chuck replied. “Did you know you could turn into a werewolf?”

“No,” Raleigh said, beginning to pace. “I don’t like it. It’s exhausting to change forms.”

“Maybe it’s something you have to practice,” Chuck suggested. “And maybe that’s why your brother didn’t want to come forward before now.”

“He should have!” Raleigh yelled. “Fucking seven years, Chuck. Seven years I’ve lived thinking he was dead, that I was crazy. Instead I find out he’s been alive and a werewolf and so fucking…” Raleigh’s voice broke on a sob.

“What?” Chuck asked, stepping close and silently offering a hug, which Raleigh refused with a shake of his head.

“He was happy,” Raleigh finished, biting his lip as if to hold back both tears and fury. “If we’re both wolves, it’s like being in the Drift again. He was happy with Duncan MacLeod and didn’t think of me at all. If he wasn’t so sick, he wouldn’t be here.”

Chuck studied Raleigh a moment. “Do you want me to go beat him up for you?”

“No, I’ll…” Raleigh looked away. “Part of me doesn’t believe he’s here. I’m just dreaming this whole shit and my life didn’t just get five times more supernaturally fucked up.”

“Hey,” Chuck said gently. “You’re not dreaming. I saw him too remember? And I think he did think of you. He let you curl up without protesting. If he’d minded, I think he would’ve said something.”

“I don’t know, Chuck. I don’t want to be a werewolf.”

“I don’t think you get to choose on that one, Raleigh,” Chuck noted dryly. “Maybe you can choose how long you stay one form or the other, but you’re still a werewolf. Just like I can’t choose whether or not I heal from damn near everything because I’m immortal.” Chuck didn’t like the vibe Raleigh was radiating; it spoke of deep doubt and reminded Chuck a little too much of the time he’d spent trying to understand where the hell he fit if his father and copilot was immortal. He knew from that experience that understanding took time and information. “Hey. I know you’re good at considering and analyzing stuff, but maybe you should hold off until you and Yancy have had a better chance to talk?”

“Maybe,” Raleigh allowed. “I’m just…so mad he could’ve gotten in touch sooner. Why didn’t he? I mean, after Pitfall, everyone knew I was alive.”

“I don’t know,” Chuck said. “And I’m not going to speculate, either, because that’s just going to make you wound up more than you are already.”

Raleigh sighed. “You still okay with me?”

“Oi,” Chuck said crossly. “I might be jealous if you tell me you can talk to Max and maybe I envy you for being able to turn into something else, but that’s just knee-jerk shit. You’re the guy I love.”

“Even if I’m probably going to shed worse than Max if I’m a wolf?”

“Even if,” Chuck said, and opened his arms.

Raleigh stepped into them willingly and rested his head on Chuck’s chest. “I don’t want him to leave again and I don’t want him to die. I just found him.”

“He’s in good hands, love. Dr. Chandel has been a healer for centuries. You trust her, don’t you?”

“I do, I just…” Raleigh blew out a breath. “I want to go back there and make sure but she won’t let me.”

“We’ll check with her after dinner, how’s that sound?”

“Can’t you claim immortal privilege and say you’re not going to get sick if you go see him for me?”

“You know her ‘no’ means no, love. Remember how she wouldn’t let you see Mako when she caught the flu?”

Raleigh made a face as he stepped out of the hug. “I don’t want to go to the mess hall for dinner. I don’t want Richie asking me questions. I swear he’s your other dad.”

Chuck barked a laugh at that. “That’s because he is.”

“Yeah, well, it weirds me out sometimes. You okay if we order in?”

“Sure,” Chuck agreed readily. He suspected that Raleigh wasn’t as calm as he was trying to be, but Chuck was willing to make the attempt at normalcy. “Did Dr. Chandel say what your brother was sick with?”

Raleigh told him as Chuck picked up the small tablet that served as Raleigh’s connection with the internal network and began the process of figuring out their dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading, commenting, and sending kudos! I really appreciate it!
> 
> Also, I'm not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV, so everything in this fic is subject to Hollywood rules of medicine.

Raleigh spent most of the following day with Yancy, who was feeling better, but was still easily winded and the cough, though less frequent, was still present.

“Come on, kid,” Yancy rasped finally after realizing twenty minutes had passed without Raleigh saying anything, “you can’t just sit here and stare at me. I’m getting creeped out.”

Raleigh looked at him, hurt etched in his face. “I missed you. I kept hearing you when I slept and I thought I was crazy. They told me I _was_ crazy, that I couldn’t ghost Drift with a ghost.”

Yancy stared back. “I’m here now and not a ghost, so talk to me. What do you do for the PPDC? All the news I read and saw was pretty vague about what being a ‘co-director of jaeger operations’ meant.”

Raleigh shrugged. “Chuck and I train the new jaeger teams and make sure they stay in shape. If we get more funding, we’ll be choosing candidates for a new jaeger and training them, but we have to be careful that we don’t look like we’re building our own army.”

“What do you do in your free time?”

“Why do you care?” Raleigh said, suddenly irritated. “The only reason you’re here now is because Duncan fucking MacLeod wanted one of his old friends to treat you.”

Uncomfortable with that statement, Yancy shifted position on the bed and decided to just admit the truth. “I had to kill people to keep the farm safe. I was afraid you wouldn’t want me here.”

Raleigh rose jerkily to his feet. “Afraid?” he sneered, his hands rising to gesture incredulously. “Afraid of you for fucking defending what you had? How the hell do you think I felt every fucking day before I Drifted with Mako? Couldn’t you hear me too? They told me I couldn’t Drift with the dead. How fucking scared do you think I was?”

“I tried to find you, Rals. I looked everywhere. I got shot trying to find you. Remember Annie, the chief of security? She shot me with a plasma rifle when I tried to go back.”

Raleigh didn’t look like he believed his brother. “Annie? Annie I never liked because she tried to kiss your ass with cookies? Who tries to kiss ass with gluten-free cookies?”

“Is that why you never liked her?”

Raleigh rolled his eyes. “Why do you never believe me when I say people have ulterior motives?” he snapped.

“Because I’d like to believe that people are basically good,” Yancy snapped back. “And I still don’t know why you stopped being the same way.”

“Because you never saw what our father did to our mother!” Raleigh shouted. “You think that bastard left because he thought you were old enough? He left because I told him to leave. I heard Mama begging him to stop buying her cigarettes, to stop lighting them for her. I think he knew she was a werewolf and didn’t want her to live; it’s the only thing that makes sense now.”

Shocked, Yancy could only stare. “How the fuck did you hide that from me in the Drift?” 

“You never went looking,” Raleigh said, his tone mocking. “Same way you apparently stopped looking for me. You could’ve tried to contact me after Pitfall. Why’d you wait so long?”

“Wasn’t,” Yancy coughed, “wasn’t sure if you’d survived. You didn’t show up in the interviews.”

“Bullshit,” Raleigh shot back. “I did some of them via Skype, so you must’ve missed those. What’s Duncan MacLeod to you? You fucking him, huh?”

“No,” Yancy rasped. “I don’t…I’m not attracted to guys. You know that. Duncan and I are just friends. ”

“Right,” Raleigh drawled. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me you love herding sheep the same way I loved sitting on top a freezing cold girder 200 feet in the air trying not to burn my hands off.”

Yancy had no answer for that. He’d never seen his brother this angry, he realized. Sometime in the years apart, Raleigh had learned control the hard way. “Can I just mention you should probably shift every twelve hours so you don’t have to stay a wolf during the full moon?” he managed, hoping the information would distract his brother.

The ploy didn’t work the way it once would have. “I heard you every day for five years, oh brother of mine. You were chasing fucking sheep in the rain and feeling _safe_.” He spat the word. “Know what I did for five years? I fought for the chance to work the top of the Wall of Life. Sometimes I’d stand up there with my safety harness off and think just how easy it would be to fall. Nobody would fucking know it wasn’t an accident.”

“You’d survive that.” The words slipped out before Yancy could stop them.

“And you wouldn’t have known or cared, would you?”

“I was trying to keep you safe, damn it! Jaz said they were looking for you for more neural testing! I didn’t want you to be a lab rat! Especially since I knew you were like me if you didn’t take off the ring Mama gave you!” Yancy swallowed hard, trying not to cough. He coughed anyway. “I was scared you’d think I was a freak.”

Raleigh scoffed at that. “Because I’m not one?” he drawled sarcastically. “I brought Gipsy to shore _alone_ , oh brother of mine. You want to know who else piloted a jaeger solo? Stacker Pentecost. Only two pilots ever soloed in a jaeger. Now one of them is dead and me? Me, I got holes in my brain where you left yours. Sometimes I think I’m you and I wonder who the fuck I’m supposed to be. Now we’re fucking werewolves, surrounded by people who smell like the air after a storm and you think I would’ve laughed at you if you’d only come home sooner?” Raleigh’s voice rose. “I would’ve killed to know you were alive, that’s how much I wanted you with me. Then I thought – it’s good you were dead, because that’s one less ration card I had to think about, one less person I was going to disappoint that day.” He blinked back tears, still furious. “So where’s the woman who made you forget all about me?”

Yancy stared at him, shocked at the accurate guess. He’d forgotten just how perceptive his brother could be, just how much Raleigh ran on instinct. “She’s dead,” he managed and watched his brother’s expression grow cold. “Raleigh, she was just a baby,” he added desperately. “I found her and tried to keep her alive but we couldn’t. She kept getting sick. Duncan thought she was born with a birth defect, maybe small lungs or an immune disorder; that’s why she was abandoned. She’s the reason I’m sick.”

“And you didn’t want me to know you chose what you wanted over me again,” Raleigh surmised, his voice heavy with contempt. “Well, why don’t you just save us both the bother of talking to me and email Herc what you think I should know about being a werewolf.”

“Raleigh –” Yancy began to argue, only to cough violently.

Raleigh pressed the button for the nurse and walked away. He didn’t return, leaving Yancy feeling even worse. How could he have guessed so wrong? More importantly, what could he do to make it right?

Duncan came by that afternoon, but Yancy didn’t really feel like talking and feigned being asleep. He knew he shouldn’t do that to his friend, but his throat was still raw from the wheezing and coughing he’d been doing, and the argument with Raleigh hadn’t helped. Dr. Chandel warned him it would probably take him least two weeks, more likely three, to feel better. That long without treatment would have been fatal for him, which made him shudder with relief that he’d given into Duncan’s urging.

“Ah, I wanted to let you know that I won’t be back for a few days,” Duncan said, clearly not fooled by Yancy’s faking. “Connor and I are looking into the rumors of the headhunter who’s using plasma rifles, so we’ll be busy, but I’ve picked up a new cell phone. I’ll leave the number with Grace. Get some real rest, Yancy. You’re in good hands.”

Herc stopped by shortly after Duncan left, assuring him that until he was better, he was a guest of the Shatterdome and would not want for anything. Much to Yancy’s relief, Herc didn’t seem to expect much input from him, but it did feel good to see him. Herc left him with a small tablet that was branded ‘PPDC Guest’ and had some of the standard applications as well as access to a limited Internet (complete with a warning that it was monitored by both the PPDC and the Chinese government). It was better than nothing, so Yancy wound up playing an old candy dropping game rather than risk having the tablet taken from him.

Yancy expected Raleigh to come back on Monday, but he got Herc instead.

“Raleigh has a migraine and is currently sleeping it off,” Herc replied in response to Yancy’s question.

“And?” Yancy asked, suspecting there was more.

“And I’d like you to meet with Dr. P’eng,” Herc said briskly. “She is the head psychiatrist here and can be a sounding board, if nothing else.”

“Is it required?”

“No,” Herc replied. “But I think you might appreciate the advice of a neutral party.”

That made Yancy pause. “What happened to Raleigh? I don’t remember him being so quick to being angry.” He knew what Raleigh had told him, but he wanted to hear it from someone else for confirmation.

“He piloted Gipsy solo twice,” Herc told him. “He suffered minor brain damage both times and prides himself on being calm and in control so that his injuries don’t affect him.”

“Twice? I know about the one, but I thought you weren’t supposed to do it again unless you wanted to die.”

Herc looked at him steadily, and Yancy’s heart dropped. “Was he that bad?”

“Chuck told me Stacker asked Raleigh where he would rather die – on the Wall of Life or in a jaeger,” Herc replied.

“If he shifts, he can heal that damage,” Yancy said confidently. “We can heal from anything except anthrax and brucellosis. Also, respiratory stuff if we’re not careful.” He coughed, winced, and gave Herc a rueful smile. “I really thought I had just a bad cold.”

Herc shook his head. “Yancy, if you lie there and tell me you didn’t hear your brother when you were sleeping or had your mental shields down far enough, then I’ll believe werewolves can heal the kind of neural rewiring Drifting creates. I hear Scott sometimes still, and you’d think I wouldn’t, especially considering Chuck and I dropped more times than Scott and I ever did.” He paused. “Can you smell the difference between people?”

“If you’re asking if I know about immortals, then the answer is yes.”

Herc nodded and looked relieved. “As you sensed, I’m immortal; I heal from everything but the grooves that Drifting wears don’t seem to heal since it involves learned skills and memory. You want to test that theory of yours and let Dr. Chandel look at an MRI?”

Yancy froze at that. “Maybe?” he said tentatively. “If it’ll help Raleigh?”

“Until that answer’s yes, I’ll file that under ‘unconfirmed’ and believe what I’ve seen so far, which indicates to me that the magic that heals you isn’t perfect.” Briskly, Herc added, “That means you need to focus on getting well.”

“Can’t I just take the antibiotics with me and –”

“And nothing,” Herc said firmly. “Where would you go, assuming the MacLeods would even let you? What you have isn’t anything you want to mess with, Yancy. Grace thinks that in your wolf form, you probably had some form of kennel cough, which is in the same family as whooping cough. You’re here now; let us take care of you, make sure that you get properly medicated, take showers with filtered water and antibacterial soap, and get good food.”

Yancy accepted the news with a mental sigh. “And then what? What happens when I’m well again?”

“Depends on what you want, Yancy. If you wanted the world to know you weren’t dead, I’m sure we could figure out a good enough story, but I’ll be honest with you: I don’t have a job opening for a jaeger pilot.”

That news hit Yancy harder than he expected. His voice was rough when he said, “Guess Raleigh already has a copilot.”

“If he were to allowed to pilot a jaeger again, then yes, Mako would be his copilot,” Herc agreed. “Given the length of time since you piloted a jaeger, I would have to put you through testing and training again. That’s assuming of course the teams we have couldn’t do the job, and I think they’d prefer it if none of us senior pilots touched their jaegers.”

Yancy chuckled, remembering how possessive he and Raleigh used to get over Gipsy Danger. “I can imagine.”

“It also assumes your brother is willing to risk his mental health for the mission,” Herc told him. “Like I said, your brother was injured and is barred from Drifting except in an extreme emergency.”

Yancy bowed his head slightly at that news. It made sense that Mako would be Raleigh’s copilot now; she would know him better, for one, and for two, they would have bonded deeply given the battles they’d fought. Yancy had no right to demand that his status as Raleigh’s first copilot gave him any special treatment. Mako would have to consent to allow him to see the memories Raleigh now had of her, and Yancy didn’t know her well enough to know whether she’d be willing. “If I’d come back sooner, do you think we’d have piloted Gipsy together?” Yancy asked.

“Yancy, playing what-if isn’t going to fix the past,” Herc said gently. “The past is done. All you can do now is move forward.”

Yancy looked at the Australian and realized he’d never heard the story of what happened his brother. From the look on Herc’s face, Yancy guessed he wasn’t ever going to, but whatever it was, it wasn’t anything Herc liked. “Do you think Raleigh will forgive me?”

“Eventually,” Herc said confidently. “But you have to remember, forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting.”

Suspecting Herc had other duties to attend to since he was now the marshal, Yancy knew he probably only had a limited time to ask the man anything. “How long has Raleigh been with Chuck?”

“About a year and a half or so,” Herc said, and then narrowed his eyes. “If you’re planning on protesting that, you’re not going to get very far.”

“I know,” Yancy said, coughing. “I just…” He reached for the glass of water on the nearby rolling tray and took a drink. “He never was interested in guys before.”

“He hadn’t met Chuck,” Herc noted and rose out of the guest chair. “I’ll let Grace know you’re getting cabin fever. If you want to talk to Dr. P’eng, please let Dr. Chandel know.”

Yancy closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, Herc was gone, and Yancy felt worse than he had when he’d woken up.

He didn’t have visitors again until after dinner. This time it was Chuck, accompanied by Raleigh in wolf form. “He wanted to make sure you weren’t a figment of his imagination,” Chuck explained, “but he still has a migraine. Dr. Chandel thought maybe if he was a wolf, he’d heal a little faster, since you seem to be metabolizing the antibiotic she’s prescribed you at a faster rate.”

“Does he get migraines a lot?” Yancy wondered.

“Sometimes. When he’s stressed or upset, he’s more prone to them. Side effect of his brain damage.” Chuck shrugged. “He also hates taking the migraine medication, since it makes him sleepy and useless to do anything else.”

Raleigh laid his paws on the side of Yancy’s bed and studied him for a moment. “Hey, kid,” Yancy said softly. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think what I was doing through, but you were always better at that than me.”

Raleigh barked what sounded like agreement, then made a face, as if the noise hurt him.

“Guess that answers that,” Chuck said with a sigh. To Yancy, he asked, “Starting to feel any better?”

“Better than yesterday, but still not,” Yancy coughed, “there yet. Dr. Chandel says I have to take it easy for two weeks and be on antibiotics that long. She wants to be sure I’m well in both forms.” Yancy coughed again.

Chuck nodded understanding. To Raleigh, he said, “Come on, love, I know you’re hurting still. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Raleigh reluctantly slid his paws off the bed and trotted to the door. He shot Yancy one last look before exiting.

That set the tone for the rest of the week. Raleigh would come by in the evenings, sometimes in wolf form, sometimes not. If he was in wolf form, Chuck was with him. It took Yancy a few days to ask why Chuck was with Raleigh when he was shifted.

“The Hansens got new dogs, if anyone asks,” Raleigh said with a shrug. “Max is old for a bulldog; he’ll be nine this year. Chuck’s hoping he lives to eighteen since he read somewhere that there are bulldogs that do live that long, but already, Max is moving slowly and not as interested in going places.”

“You don’t mind being claimed that way?” Yancy asked.

“Would you rather tell the world the truth?” Raleigh countered. “Besides, if you stay, then you and I can hang out in wolf form and nobody will care. Of course, that means we’ll have to put up with some people thinking they can pet us without permission.”

“You really want me to stay? I don’t have a job here.”

Raleigh frowned and flipped through the date planner Yancy noticed he carried with him everywhere before writing himself a note.

“What’s with the planner?”

“Can’t look at computer screens too long or I get migraines,” Raleigh said, shrugging. “But yeah, I want you to stay. You and I have some catching up to do – and I still need to kick your ass for making me think you were dead.”

“Hell of incentive to stay there,” Yancy teased, the joke instinctive.

Raleigh froze. Very carefully, he asked, “Do you want to stay? Dr. Chandel said another week, tops, and you’ll be okay to go home.”

Yancy looked at his brother. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I have to talk to Duncan.”

Raleigh opened his planner and wrote himself another note. “Okay,” he said in a small voice. More determinedly, he asked, “Did you want to play a game? I brought backgammon.”

“Thought you hated board games.”

“Thought you hated watching nighttime soap operas, which is all that’s on TV tonight,” Raleigh countered.

“Backgammon it is.” Yancy shifted position on the bed so he could sit up more while Raleigh set the portable board up on the rolling table.

“Can I ask you something?” Yancy asked, a few minutes later.

Raleigh looked at him and waited.

“Are you happy here? You don’t have to stay, you know.”

“I have PTSD and brain damage,” Raleigh said shortly. “If I leave, I’ll have to explain that to people who don’t get it the way Dr. Chandel and Dr. P’eng do. And now I’m a werewolf too? There’s a limit to what I’m willing to put up with, Yancy, and people who don’t or won’t understand what I am is where I draw a line when it comes to my health and my sanity.” He met Yancy’s gaze. “We were still connected in the Drift, bro, and it left scars. I had Dr. Chandel scan my brain this morning, and those scars are still there.”

That gave Yancy pause. “Are you still angry with me?”

“I’m trying not to be,” Raleigh said. “I have to be calm or I get headaches and then there goes my day, and I want to tell myself I didn’t dream you being here.”

“You need better dreams, kid.”

For a moment, Yancy wasn’t sure his brother would take it as the joke he meant, then he looked again and saw that Raleigh was fighting not to smile. So he did what big brothers have often done when faced with bratty siblings: he took his pillow and swatted Raleigh with it.

Indignant, Raleigh grabbed the pillow and hit Yancy back – but he was grinning while he did it.

Yancy knew they weren’t back to where they’d been, but it was good to see his brother smiling. _Maybe,_ Yancy thought _, maybe I didn’t fuck up as bad as I thought if Raleigh still laughs at my bad jokes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next few chapters may take a while; I'd like to be sure that I can resolve everything before I post again. As to why? Well, trouble's coming...oh wait, trouble's already here.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the suggestions and conversations! I hope this chapter works for you.
> 
> This chapter has been brought to you by the number nine and the letter 'A', as in allergies, and how long it takes for a supposed 12-hour allergy medicine to wear off....
> 
> As always, if you notice things I messed up, please let me know. My thought is that as far as CPS goes, the rules post-Kaiju-War are a little looser than they might be otherwise....
> 
> ETA 6/13/15: Based on feedback, I've edited this chapter.

Saturday morning brought with a comprehensive exam, complete with a session with the head psychiatrist, Dr. P’Eng, a British woman of Chinese descent. Yancy got the sense from the questions she asked that she wanted to be sure he was okay with being confined to the clinic another week, since his cough wasn’t going away and the lab tests indicated that while he was no longer contagious, he still wasn’t out of the woods yet. She also asked if he had other issues he wanted to discuss.

“What, like being a wolf sometimes?”

She smiled gently. “If that’s what you want to discuss, certainly. Whatever you discuss with me is strictly confidential and will require your permission to disclose.”

“I guess I don’t know what to say, then,” Yancy admitted. “I mean, it’s a part of me now.”

“Are you concerned about how your brother is taking the news that you’re alive?”

“He’s angry and irritated and upset,” Yancy said. “I’d be too, so I guess I can’t get too mad.”

Dr. P’Eng nodded. “Understandable. What were you hoping for, then?”

“I honestly thought he’d be happy,” Yancy said. “But it looks like he’s moved on.” Yancy shifted restlessly and gave in to the urge to cough. “I was scared he’d punch me.”

“Was he violent before?”

Yancy looked askance at her. “You know my brother better than me and you’re asking that? No, he wasn’t violent. We never started fights, but we’d finish them.” Yancy coughed again. “I would’ve hit me for being a coward.”

“And why do you think you were a coward?”

“Because I should have tried to contact him sooner, and I gave up repeatedly. Came up with a million stupid excuses and maybe one good one.”

Dr. P’Eng didn’t judge that statement, but Yancy could tell that she was gearing up to say more. Even though he knew how valuable a trained psychiatrist could be from previous counseling sessions as a jaeger pilot, he was certain he was not up to going through the last seven years of his life with someone who would be asking the tough follow-up questions. “Listen, Dr. P’Eng, maybe we should talk more when I’m not coughing so much.”

She accepted the flimsy excuse and asked permission to visit him again mid-week so they could discuss issues more privately (“whatever you want to cover”), which he granted. He knew if he stayed, he couldn’t keep avoiding the discussion of all the things he’d been avoiding. If nothing else, he wanted to know how to deal with his brother’s anger.

Saturday morning also brought an unexpected visitor: Mako Mori, who introduced herself. She was dressed casually in jeans and a blue t-shirt in the same hue as the streaks in her hair. She wore simple black canvas sneakers. She wore no jewelry; her PPDC badge was neatly attached to her PPDC-issue canvas belt in a fold-over leather case Yancy suspected doubled as her wallet. She was exactly as tall as Yancy pictured her to be, which pleased him; it meant the PPDC marketing machine hadn’t felt the need to paint her as taller. Drive suit burns marred her right arm, indicating that whatever had happened to Gipsy Danger, it had left its imprint on her skin.

“I thought if I was to meet you,” Yancy said, surprised, “Raleigh would be making introductions.”

Mako smiled. “I’m sure he would if he had been up,” she said tactfully.

Yancy glanced at the clock on the tablet he’d been given, then at Mako. It was just shy of nine in the morning. “We are talking about my brother, right? The guy who leaps out of bed, full of enthusiasm for the day, usually up at six AM?”

“He is with Chuck,” Mako said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “We rarely expect them in public before lunch on Saturdays.”

“Ah,” Yancy said, and realized that Mako just implied that his brother was busy getting laid. Given he wasn’t entirely sure how gay sex worked outside of what little porn he’d seen, Yancy decided he was better off not trying to imagine his little brother having sex with a guy. “Um, so what do I owe the pleasure of your company to? And please, have a seat if you’re going to be a while. I might cough now and then but I’m not contagious anymore.”

Mako nodded. “Dr. Chandel would not let me see you until you had passed that point,” she noted. “As you know, memories are shared in the Drift. I saw the bond that you shared with Raleigh and I felt what happened when you were torn out of the conn-pod. The Yancy he knew then is someone I believed died knowing he hadn’t finished the mission, but wanted strongly for his brother to do so.” She paused. “I told Raleigh when we met I didn’t think he was the right man for the mission because he took unnecessary risks that endangered his crew.”

Yancy’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You told him that and he didn’t get upset?”

“He said that in combat, you make decisions, and that he was just trying to live with the consequences.” Mako met Yancy’s gaze. “He was looking at a photo of you and him when he said it.”

Yancy blew out a breath. “So you’ve come to tell me that you think I’m a coward?”

“I think you ran, yes,” Mako agreed readily. “I think you made a decision based on what information was available to you and did not, for whatever reason, check to see if that theory was still valid. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t come back after the news broke that we’d closed the Breach.”

Yancy stared at her. “You, uh, always this blunt?”

Mako ducked her head slightly. “ _Sensei_ did not have the patience for anyone who wasted his time with unnecessary words.”

“Ah,” Yancy said. He wondered who that was and decided he’d ask Raleigh later. Then he changed his mind. “Who’s _Sensei_?”

Mako looked at Yancy, slightly surprised. “Stacker Pentecost adopted me after Onibaba took my family when it attacked Tokyo.”

Yancy did a double take. He didn’t remember hearing that the marshal had a child, but he did remember the iconic photo of a young girl in a blue dress. “You’re that girl?” He whistled softly when Mako inclined her head. “Damn, and we thought he had ice in his veins.”

Mako smiled a secret smile.

Yancy forced himself to focus on the question Mako had posed. He suspected if he derailed the conversation into her childhood, she’d just refocus it on him, in much the same way Stacker had once wanted him and Raleigh to concentrate their efforts on the greater good. “Why does it matter to you?”

“As the engineer responsible for overseeing the Gipsy Danger restoration project, part of my responsibility was figuring out possible Drift-compatible candidates for Raleigh. Had we had known you were alive, we would have naturally asked you first.”

Yancy closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t think I would’ve been ready to do it unless you told you’d found Raleigh too. Doesn’t falling out of the conn-pod and dying count as failing?”

Mako looked surprised. “You died?”

Yancy hesitated, unsure of how much she knew about werewolves and immortals. “Almost dying,” he amended.

“But you did not die. The marshal preferred to have at least one experienced Mark-3 pilot,” Mako replied. “All other Mark-3 pilots were dead.”

Yancy frowned. “What about Scott Hansen?”

“Scott Hansen has been deemed medically incapable of ever being a jaeger pilot.”

Yancy looked at her. “I’m guessing you can’t tell me the rest of the story behind that.”

“That presumes that I know more than what I just said,” Mako pointed out, “which I don’t.”

“Ah.” Yancy considered the what-if for a moment. “I really don’t know if I’d have said yes,” he confessed. “I think if Stacker Pentecost had landed in Duncan’s field, I might’ve been tempted to tell him to go away unless he had proof that Raleigh was going too.” 

“Even if he asked you where you wanted to die – there or in a jaeger?” Mako’s tone was a little shocked.

“Look, by that point, I’d spilled blood defending that farm from punks with plasma rifles,” Yancy snapped. “Being in a jaeger was…” _Always what my brother wanted_ , Yancy remembered abruptly. “It wasn’t what I grew up wanting to be. I just thought it was the thing to do and it wasn’t like we had other choices.”

“The world was ending,” she said, aghast. “You’d have said no?”

“Why not?” Yancy shot back. “If I didn’t know who I’d be piloting with or if the jaeger we had could fight the kind of kaiju that came after the one that pulled me out of the conn-pod? Why wouldn’t I choose the safe life?”

“Because you’re Yancy Becket.”

Yancy shook his head slowly. “That guy? That guy was dreaming big, stupid dreams like there was a guarantee on tomorrow. Me, I’m just trying to get through today. Maybe it’s better I was elsewhere. I used to dream that I was watching me fall out of the conn-pod, screaming.” He shuddered. “I hated those dreams. Seeing that again in the Drift – Rals and I would’ve chased a hell of a RABIT and I’m not sure if either of us would’ve been able to pull the other out of it.”

Mako tilted her head slightly. “Perhaps. Raleigh was considered the more impulsive of the two of you, so the marshal may have just settled for finding you. He and I discussed that one scenario; we had contingencies for all possibilities. Either way, Gipsy Danger needed pilots.”

“Was you being one of them part of the original plan?”

Mako’s smile widened. “No. I was merely to be the person in charge of the jaeger restoration program, nothing more. Your brother had different ideas; he didn’t like any of my chosen candidates.”

“Why not?”

“He wanted someone who would be more of a challenge, someone who reminded him of the way you would stand up to him and make him focus.”

That stung. “But you’re not me.”

Mako acknowledged that with a nod. “No, and I know I cannot take the place you hold. That is why I am here now, so I can understand why you chose to remain where you were. I know he is frustrated and upset, and I want to be able to help him. I cannot do that if I only have his side of the story.”

Something about the calm recitation of that statement made Yancy trust Mako that much more. “Are you his best friend now?”

“As much as any copilot can be, yes,” she answered steadily. “So tell me why you stayed where you were? Was it a nice place?”

“Small farm with about a hundred lambs on it, north of Seattle,” Yancy said. “Duncan built it to have its own water and power, so it could be off the grid if the power went, which it did.” Yancy frowned. “I never asked who’s taking care of the sheep while we’re here.” He shook his head. “Probably the family next door. Anyway, the house wasn’t fancy – it was one big box with two bedrooms and one bath, but it was built well and you could tell it wasn’t furnished cheap.” He could feel Mako’s steady gaze upon him and gave up fighting the urge to cough. He took a sip of water when he was done. “It was home, but I spent three years looking for Raleigh. Duncan had a friend who smuggled pharmaceuticals and medical supplies to people who were getting stiffed by official channels. Cory used one of Duncan’s fields as a landing point – he’d get more cargo or just stop by for a pit stop, and I’d go with him. He’d go to every refugee camp between Seattle and northern Alaska. I’d ask around, looking for Raleigh. Finally someone told me that the PPDC had put a reward out, looking for him, for medical testing. I remembered how they used to check us out – it felt like if we weren’t training or testing or fighting, we were in the medical clinic, making sure we weren’t leaking our brains out of our ears. I didn’t want Raleigh to be a lab rat, especially since I knew he’d be a werewolf. I knew there were people who’d use my blood for stupid shit; I didn’t want Raleigh to be the same.”

Mako considered Yancy’s words. “Why didn’t you come forward after we closed the Breach?”

Yancy shook his head. “I couldn’t leave Faye,” he said. At her inquiring look, he explained.

******

_January 2025_

When he was in his wolf form, Yancy liked to patrol the property line. It soothed some animal part of him that needed to make sure his territory was still his. As the years had gone on, Yancy had memorized every part of the fence, every part of the carefully trimmed bushes that served as delineation between Duncan’s property and his neighbors, so he knew what was supposed to be there and what wasn’t. This morning had brought rain and Duncan’s insistence that he needed to get in touch with Raleigh, so as soon as the rain had cleared, Yancy shifted and left the house. Yancy wasn’t sure his brother needed him – he had a new copilot and he’d done what he and Yancy had once sworn they were going to do. From the official photos Duncan had shown him that morning, it looked as though Raleigh was just fine, all suited up in that sharp-looking black jaeger pilot’s drive suit and grinning at the Japanese woman who’d piloted Gipsy Danger with him. What did he need with a brother who hadn’t been a part of that?

The air felt fresher after a rain, and Yancy took a big whiff. He frowned as he smelled something different off to his right, and carefully made his way through the mud to what had been the dividing line between Duncan’s property and Teresa’s. There was little but blackened ruins on that property now, but it had been long enough, and the winter mild enough, that nature was slowly reclaiming the land. One of the white oaks that had survived the fire stood as a lone sentinel to denote the dividing line.

He found the cardboard box easily enough under the oak tree. Waterlogged by the morning rain, it was nearly collapsed, and he heard agitated whimpers. Alarmed, Yancy shifted back to human, and pawed through the box to find the baby, covered in a pink fuzzy blanket. It was otherwise naked and was a girl. “What the fuck?”

He didn’t understand why anyone would abandon a baby here. Granted, suburbia had stopped its slow creep a mile down the road, but it was still farm country out this way, but as far as Yancy knew, their neighbors consisted of only five families, who all had dug in and planned for the worst like Duncan had. Whoever left this baby either intended it to be found or wanted it to die slowly.

The baby had a small cap of brown hair and blue eyes. It made Yancy flash back to when he’d first held his siblings, and he swore again. He didn’t bother with the box; he just tucked the baby in his arms and ran back to the house.

“Oh, there you are,” Duncan said. “I was going to ask if you wanted me to see about getting you legally reinstated as being alive, not dead, so we can get you a passport in your name and get you to Hong Kong.”

“We can’t leave,” Yancy said. “I found a baby.”

Alarmed, Duncan stepped closer. “Yancy, we should take her to the hospital.”

“No! No hospital,” Yancy said. “They’ll take her away from me.”

“Yancy,” Duncan countered, “if we don’t take her to the hospital, she’s going to die. We don’t have baby stuff.”

Caught by that logic of that, Yancy asked, “Can we at least get her into something that’s dry?”

It took half an hour to drive the distance to the nearest hospital. Within short order, the baby was rescued from near-death thanks to the intervention of the hospital personnel. Child Protective Services was naturally called in, but the state was overrun with children in need thanks to the Kaiju War. Yancy refused to leave until he knew what the baby’s fate was. The CPS worker allowed Yancy and Duncan to take the baby, whom Yancy had named Faye, home with them after making sure they had been briefed on basic baby care.

*****

“But Faye kept getting sick,” Yancy told Mako as he finished telling her the story. “They couldn’t figure out why and wanted to run tests on her. She hated needles and she’d bruise so easily, so I finally said enough with the tests. I didn’t want to give her experimental drugs or turn her into a lab rat, especially since I could tell the doctors were just guessing. I still don’t know where she picked up whooping cough, but…” He took a deep breath. “She died three weeks ago. We buried her where I’d found her, under the oak tree.”

Mako was quiet a moment as she digested the information. “You didn’t think she was well enough to make the trip before then?”

Yancy coughed and shook his head. Something about the way Mako looked at him made him admit, “I was scared of what Raleigh would think of me and I was…I was just so afraid I froze.” He laughed ruefully. “Duncan got frustrated with me and he even yelled once. I probably shouldn’t have used Faye like that but all I could think about was here was a baby who needed me, and my brother probably didn’t, given how long it had been since I’d tried to find him. Guess I was right about him not needing me. He’s got you as his copilot, a guy who loves him, and his place here in the PPDC. Me, I got nothing but his anger and irritation.” Yancy took a sip of water before asking, “I suppose you’re going to tell me I should just excuse his behavior.”

“Hardly,” Mako said, surprising Yancy. “Yes, he has the right to be angry with you, but he should be enjoying the time he has with you. Especially since you know things that would be useful for him to know, and neither of you can count on the other being here in an emergency.”

Yancy studied her a moment, reassessing her in light of what she’d said. “You know about the shifting thing.” He rewound their conversation in his head and realized he'd let that fact slip.

Mako inclined her head. “I did before this conversation, yes.”

“Does everyone know?” Yancy demanded.

“That, I cannot say,” Mako replied easily. “However, Raleigh chose to tell me. He doesn’t like being a wolf. He says it’s too tiring and he doesn’t feel like anything is healing, so he doesn’t see any benefit in it.”

Yancy narrowed his eyes, trying to remember what it had been like for him. “It took me six months of shifting every day to stop sounding like I crunched all of my bones and for it to stop aching so much,” he told Mako. “Which means I was a cranky bastard, ah hell. Mako, would you do me a favor? I don’t think my brother is as willing to listen to me as he might listen to you, but could you ask him to just spend a few more hours each night as a wolf?”

“I will ask,” Mako agreed after a moment’s consideration. “I cannot guarantee that he will listen. You know he’s always been stubborn.” She eyed Yancy a moment. “May I ask a favor in return?”

“Certainly,” Yancy said easily.

“You didn’t let him get away with much before,” Mako noted. “What’s stopping you now?”

“I, uh –” Yancy stammered. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I was just grateful he was willing be near me. I thought for sure we’d get into a fight.” Yancy coughed involuntarily. “Thought maybe he was just being angry to make up for that.”

“And being sick stopped you two from fighting before?” Mako asked.

Yancy stared at her as he hastily flipped through his memory banks. “No,” he admitted ruefully. “But…I look at him and I think: this is exactly how I expected him to react. So in a way I’m getting exactly what I thought I’d get?”

Mako contemplated his words. “But you are not upset by his anger?”

“What do you want me to say?” Yancy asked, irked. “Last week, I was burying the girl I’d thought was my daughter in all but blood and this week I’m in a PPDC clinic full of people who seem to be all siding with my brother. Of course I’m upset. I’m just out of energy to show it.” He started coughing and had to wait until he could speak again. “See?”

Mako inclined her head slightly. “My apologies for mistaking your calm for a lack of caring. I should let you go so you can rest.” 

“One question before you go.”

She nodded, silently granting permission. 

“Were you as surprised to discover my brother was in love with Chuck Hansen?”

Mako grinned. “Not as surprised as Chuck was.” She paused. “Does it bother you?”

“A little. I mean, I know people can change in seven years, but I think…I think I’d be as surprised to find he was in love with anyone, much less someone who comes across on TV as a self-important asshole. The times he’s been in this week with Raleigh, though – I can tell Chuck adores my brother. I guess I never thought he’d be like that.”

“Most of us didn’t,” she agreed just as Duncan stepped into the room.

“Ranger Mori,” Duncan greeted formally, bowing slightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Duncan MacLeod; Yancy’s been staying with me.”

She returned the bow. “Pleased to meet you. I regret I cannot stay and talk more, but I promised a friend I’d look into some things for him.” She turned to Yancy. “If you wish to speak more, please let Dr. Chandel know and I will come.”

Yancy inclined his head, returning the slight bow she gave him, and watched her exit.

Duncan frowned at her abrupt exit. “Did I interrupt a conversation?”

“Not really,” Yancy hastened to assure him. “Did you find whoever is the guy you’re looking for?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not yet.” He smiled reassuringly. “How are you?”

Yancy considered the question. “Wondering if I should’ve spent less time playing Big Bad Wolf and more time looking for Raleigh. He’s not happy with me for staying away and I think…I think there isn’t much room for me here.”

“Yancy,” Duncan said gently, “you cannot possibly completely reconnect with someone in a single week. It’s an admirable goal but it’s usually fraught with disaster. Also, I worried that you were becoming obsessed with finding your brother – that might’ve been worse.”

Yancy coughed. “I don’t know. I feel like he thinks I should have proof that I tried or something.”

“Did he handle change well before?”

“I…I don’t remember,” Yancy said, and frowned. “I feel like I should, though. I mean, we Drifted. We knew each other inside and out once.”

“Seven years ago,” Duncan reminded him. “People can change, and you are not the same man I rescued.”

Yancy mulled that over before deciding to focus on Duncan instead. “So how long do you plan on staying? I can’t imagine the sheep will do well without us for long.”

“Do you want to go back to the farm when you are well?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Duncan, but…” Yancy drew a breath, “I really don’t want to be a sheep farmer. I’d like my next career to be nothing involving raising animals.”

Duncan chuckled. “I wondered how long it would take before you told me that.”

“You’re not mad?”

Duncan shook his head. “Spending this week with Connor has reminded me that I was doing some hiding out of my own,” he admitted. “I’ll contact my lawyer and get things in motion to sell the farm and all the animals. You’re welcome to stay with me and help me decide where next to live.”

Yancy whistled softly. “You’d do that?”

“Your choice. If you want to go somewhere other than where I pick, the least I can do for you is to do whatever it takes to set you up there for all the work you’ve done for me. I used to split the year between the Seattle area and Paris, France.”

Yancy looked down at his hands before he looked at Duncan. “In that case, I’d like to think about it a few days.”

“Take your time,” Duncan assured him. “If they kick you out of here, it’s not a problem for me to pay for a hotel or a short-term apartment.”

“Thanks,” Yancy said gratefully. “Um…can you maybe help me find out how to get my identity back? I don’t want to announce I’m alive but I also don’t want to be dead, either.” He smiled ruefully. “I mean, I can’t keep living off you forever, and there’s going to be some point where I need a passport.” He frowned. “Why don’t I remember how we got here?”

“Because you were running a fever and both Cory and I thought it better if you were a dog for the purposes of immigration. All we needed was a passport with your current vaccinations.”

Yancy stared at him. “Great. So the only way I’m legally here is as your pet.”

Duncan winced at the irritation in his tone. “Sorry? But we didn’t have the time to look at renewing your identity if I wanted to get you here.”

“Then can we do that legally, or mostly legally? I’d like to walk out of this country and onto a plane, not be a dog in a goddamned crate.”

“I’ll have to speak to Marshal Hansen about that,” Duncan said. “I don’t know if you’re subject to any special provisions since you were a jaeger pilot, like some soldiers are if they were prisoners of war and the like.”

“Oh. Maybe I should ask him then.”

Duncan nodded. “I’d start there, and then if you need more help, let me know.”

Reluctantly, Yancy agreed with that logic. Conversation tapered off quickly after that, and Duncan soon took his leave, promising he’d be back on Monday. Yancy couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something important, though, and that Duncan was downplaying something so he wouldn’t worry.


	15. Chapter 15

Alone again, Yancy watched TV with only a passing interest in whatever was playing. Mako’s and Duncan’s visits made him realize that he’d been so caught up in just getting through the moment that he hadn’t thought of what would happen after he was through this illness and was fit for travel. At the very least, he needed to figure out what he was doing next, because Duncan was ready to move on from being a sheep farmer. At most, he had another week to heal and take advantage of the PPDC’s hospitality. From there, he could go with Duncan to wherever Duncan wanted to go – and he had no doubt that it would be where the older man would want, regardless of his stated preferences. Duncan wouldn’t couch it that way, Yancy was sure, but he’d known the man long enough to know that he had definite preferences about everything.

The problem was: Yancy didn’t know where he fit anymore. All of his reasons for staying put where he was were gone. Faye was dead. The sheep and the land would be sold. Right now, all Yancy owed was in a backpack in the hospital room’s closet; he’d never bothered to do more than replace clothes that had gotten worn out. The world believed he was dead. His brother had managed without him, and from the looks of things would continue to do so. Where was he supposed to live? What was he supposed to do? Who the hell was Yancy Becket anyway? From Mako’s perspective, it sounded a hell of lot like what he thought he was: a coward for not trying harder to come forward and say, “I’m alive, not dead.” Why hadn’t he seen that as an option, back when it might have made a difference? he wondered now.

 _Duncan said it was too dangerous for you to come forward_ , he reminded himself. Yet Duncan hadn’t seen any problem with Yancy going on pirate runs with an immortal who wouldn’t tell Yancy his last name, how old he was, or how he’d acquired his cargo. How much more dangerous had that been if they’d been caught? Cory had known where to find Jazmine – so how close had he been to finding Raleigh all those times and didn’t mention it? Yancy had to have been so close. Had Cory or Duncan prevented him from meeting up with Raleigh?

The thought that maybe he’d trusted too blindly made Yancy want to shift and run, but he was starting to realize that perhaps he’d spent too much time doing exactly that. He felt ill equipped to deal with the notion he could have a life that wasn’t dependent on Duncan, but if Duncan had been hiding out from the world, then it made sense that he was going to chose to stop doing so. That meant that Yancy had to do the same. He’d thought raising Faye would mean he did something important, that he’d been able to protect someone he loved, but all his efforts had only resulted in her dying anyway and him getting sick. Plus, if Duncan really had prevented Yancy from connecting with Raleigh sooner, then at the very least, it meant that Yancy had abdicated his responsibility for his own well being to someone else. At the worst, it meant he’d once again trusted the wrong person – but he didn’t believe that. It just was this place, making him all paranoid and fearful again, but as soon as he thought that thought, he discarded it as being ridiculous. He wanted to believe that the reason he hadn’t been able to find his brother was that Raleigh hadn’t been where he’d been looking – but what if he was wrong? And if he was, did it change anything?

He concluded it didn’t. Duncan had respected his wishes not to continue searching and to not contact the PPDC until it became medically necessary. That counted for a lot in Yancy’s book, but it still left him without a clue on how to move on from here. If Raleigh didn’t want him around, if he couldn’t find a job, if he couldn’t regain his identity…the list of ‘ifs’ seemed endless and daunting.

Once upon a time, he’d been the guy with the plan, the senior pilot. Now he felt as though he’d spent so much time just living in the moment that he couldn’t think beyond what he wanted for dinner. Unconsciously, he growled.

 _First things first_ , he told himself. _Get your name back and then you can figure out where you can run to and how, because the clock is ticking on how long you can stay here._

With that thought in mind, he called the nurse and asked her if she could arrange a visit from the marshal.

* * *

Chuck sighed. Dealing with Raleigh was sometimes an exercise in patience. For a man who’d spent his teenage years perfecting how to say just the right thing to push everyone away, that patience was not an immense resource. Discovering that his boyfriend was more interested in whatever was underneath the bed than doing their usual Saturday morning sex was not how Chuck planned on spending his morning. “Raleigh, what the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for my mom’s ring,” came the muffled reply from under the bed. “Checking to make sure it didn’t fall under here. Can’t move the bed; it’s too heavy.”

“What makes you think it’s under the bed?”

“I took it off so I wouldn’t catch it on anything when I went to help with the welding Richie wanted me to help with, and I had it on the night stand but I know Max wanted to play so…”

Crossing his arms at that explanation, Chuck decided he was not going to crawl under the bed and help Raleigh. “Love, what the fuck do you want with that ring now?”

“Don’t want to shift anymore,” Raleigh said, sliding out from underneath the bed and looking frustrated. “If I can find the ring and wear it, then I won’t.”

Chuck’s eyes narrowed. “Who gave you that idea?”

“I asked Yancy if the ring had stopped me from shifting before and he said yes. So if I wear it again, I won’t.” At Chuck’s incredulous look, Raleigh said, irritated, “It hurts, okay? It fucking hurts and I don’t like the sound and everything’s louder and not in the right colors and I don’t see the fucking point. It’s not like I’m going to live forever if I’m a werewolf, so why bother?”

“But you could,” Chuck pointed out. “Nothing I’ve heard so far says you couldn’t.”

“And what if I do but I’m a fucking old, old man who can’t remember his own name? You don’t have to put up with this shit!” Raleigh yelled. “Yancy said shifting would heal me but I’m still fucking brain damaged! I still have scars on my body and I still have to take this fucking medication and –” Raleigh choked back an angry sob. “And I don’t want to know if it doesn’t work.”

Chuck blew out a slow breath and studied the other man. “Maybe we should talk to your brother more? Maybe healing takes more than a couple of shifts between human and wolf.”

Raleigh looked away. “And what happens if I don’t ever get better and I forget more shit over time?”

Chuck sat down on the bed and drew Raleigh close. “Nothing changes,” he emphasized. “I love you. I just don’t think we should go putting on or trying to find magic-enhanced jewelry without knowing what it will do to you. Maybe part of the magic is that once it’s lost, it’s lost forever unless you have the right words to find it again?”

Raleigh sighed and leaned into the embrace. “I want to believe him, Chuck. I just…the guy I knew was always on the move, always looking for a chance to act. I keep trying to push him to get mad at me and he just…sits there and acts like it’s what he deserves.” 

“Did he say why he didn’t get in touch sooner?” 

Raleigh made a face. “I’m not sure I believe his excuses.”

Chuck sighed. “That doesn’t mean they’re not valid or that you should give up on this whole werewolf thing. You got the rest of your life to deal with being one. Shouldn’t you take advantage and learn from someone who’s spent the last seven years as one?” 

“Yeah, but –” Raleigh moved his shoulders restlessly as he looked at Chuck. “What if I shift while we’re having sex?”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Chuck said cautiously. “Otherwise people would notice and that wouldn’t be good for werewolves. Unless you have some weird fetish I don’t know about?”

Raleigh glared at him. “But Yancy said I have to shift every twelve hours and I’ve been trying not to but I already know if I wait too long, I shift anyway.”

“What?” Chuck demanded incredulously. “You’ve been fighting the urge to shift? Why the hell?”

“It hurts,” Raleigh repeated. “And I’d rather snuggle with you as a human and not have fur all underneath the covers.”

 _Ah_ , Chuck thought, _now we get to the real problem_. Leaning in close, he kissed him slowly. “So don’t sleep under the covers when you’re a wolf.”

“But then you’ll be cold.” 

“I’ll figure out something,” Chuck assured him. “And after we get lunch, we’ll go see Yancy and ask him questions. Sound like a plan?”

Raleigh closed his eyes briefly and returned the kiss. “Okay,” he agreed.

Suspecting Raleigh would continue looking for the ring, Chuck decided that the time to move was now. “So let’s get dressed before I get tempted into missing lunch,” he suggested and leered deliberately at Raleigh’s mostly naked body.

Raleigh acquiesced at that and turned his attention to getting dressed.

“One thing I’ve been wondering,” Chuck said. “How in the world did you manage to hide that you were changing forms?”

“You sleep pretty deeply when you sleep,” Raleigh told him. “I think you learned how to tune out Max’s snoring and anything that’s not a kaiju alarm. And you believed me when I said I was sore from exercising.”

“But how’d you figure out you were a werewolf?”

Raleigh rolled his eyes. “I looked in a mirror. Plus, the claws and fur were a dead giveaway. I panicked and chanted ‘I’m human’ until I changed.” He pulled on a t-shirt and made a face. “Not the way I wanted to learn, by the way.”

“If it hurt so much the first time, then why did you do it again?” 

“Most I can last without shifting is three days, and then I have to change.” Raleigh shook his head. “You’re used to me taking some time for myself, so I could use that excuse so you wouldn’t see me as a wolf.”

Chuck frowned. “Did you think I’d take it wrong?”

Raleigh looked at him. “You told me you didn’t want anything to do with being an immortal.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Raleigh demanded irritably.

“Because everything I’ve heard so far about you and Yancy being werewolves doesn’t include you having to kill to stay alive,” Chuck shot back. “Right now my biggest fear is that you get as sick as Yancy is and you show the same idiotic sense of stubbornness and don’t let me take you to a doctor.”

“I’m not that kind of idiot. Not anymore.”

“Good, then that’s settled,” Chuck said, satisfied. “Look, I get that you aren’t happy about finding out that you’re something more than what you’ve always thought yourself to be. I get that. But hiding your head in the sand isn’t going to work, especially if your body makes you change forms anyway after a certain period of time.” 

Raleigh sighed heavily at that. “I just…” He pulled on his jeans and did his belt. “Wish it was easier than it feels. I watched Yancy shift and he didn’t crunch or wince.”

“More practice?” Chuck asked. “And how come Max didn’t give you away?”

“You raised a happy-go-lucky, all-I-want-is-to-be-petted bulldog. ‘Fierce’ isn’t in his vocabulary. When’s the last time he growled at anyone?”

Chuck laughed ruefully at that. “Point.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: This one got long.
> 
> Also, speaking as someone who caught whooping cough as an adult several years ago: it sucks and it's terrifying both to hear and to feel. [insert pro-vaccination soapbox here].

Richie worked out methodically, the katas as instinctive as breathing as he moved through them. As it was Saturday, Herc was working his usual half-day, so Richie didn’t feel like he was stealing any time from their relationship to calm his mind and exercise his body. Plus, he knew that Herc had a conference call with one of the Seattle-based financial contributors to the PPDC, who was doing what large financiers do: checking on his investment. Since Richie’s presence was not needed at the call, he’d wished Herc luck on dealing with the billionaire and gone on to his workout. 

The knock on the kwoon room door startled Richie, and he whirled to face the unknown opponent, sword at the ready. It hit a metal shield, clanging with the force of impact. He breathed out when he recognized who the uniformed, middle-aged woman was. “Sorry, Poppy.”

Poppy Goddard smiled. She was a dark brunette of medium height and build; a casting call would list her as the athletic Australian woman-next-door. As deputy chief of PPDC security, she’d started her career by guarding Scott Hansen before being switched to guarding Chuck; she now handled the security of any of the more trouble-inclined jaeger pilots. Because of that work, Richie trusted her – but not to the degree that she’d been informed about immortals. Richie suspected Poppy knew anyway, but she had already proven her loyalty and discretion, so as long as she was not asking questions, Richie felt no need to further enlighten her. Herc’s compromise with his security had been to enforce a rule about grabbing a shield if he, Richie, or Chuck were training in the kwoon, on the off chance that they were using swords. Poppy had taken the oddball training in proper shield usage in stride, only commenting that it might’ve been handy on a day when Scott had been drunkenly throwing things.

“No harm done,” she said now, gesturing to the shield. “I normally wouldn’t even consider interrupting you, but Mr. MacLeod said he had information he wanted to give you about his and his cousin’s progress.”

“Which one?”

“Mr. Duncan,” Poppy said. “I took the liberty of telling him you might be busy.”

“He in the lobby and alone?”

Poppy nodded. “Yes. Shall I have him wait for you in Conference Room 1?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Richie agreed. “I want to shower first.” It was vanity and Richie knew it, but he had bad memories associated with being in workout clothes and talking with Duncan. He wasn’t about to self-induce a flashback. “And can you make sure the cameras are on in that room?” 

“They’re always on in that room,” she said carefully before pausing. “The marshal said that the MacLeods were investigating the death of a friend who’d been shot by plasma rifles. Marshal Hansen also said that the MacLeods raised you. Do you not like Duncan MacLeod?”

“It isn’t as cut and dried like that. You know how if you have a parent that has this big reputation, everybody expects you to live up to it or better?”

Poppy nodded. 

“Duncan MacLeod is one of the best martial artists and sword fighters in the world. He's been very successful in his enterprises and he's independently wealthy. Duncan took me in when I was seventeen and taught me all I know about how to be a better man,” Richie told her. “But like all families, we disagree on what that means exactly.” He smiled crookedly. “And if we get into a fight, I’d like some kind of record of what happened.”

“Ah,” Poppy said understandingly. “Would you prefer if Jeremy and I were the only ones to see the recording, either way?”

“And Herc,” Richie said. “Not that I’m expecting trouble, but Mac can get on my nerves. If nothing happens, then please destroy the video.” He saw no reason to give her the whole sordid story; he knew from the years he'd spent conning others that a hint of truth was enough for most people.

Poppy nodded. “We usually only retain recordings from that room for twenty-four hours; if you want it to be less than that, I'll need Marshal Hansen's authorization.“ 

“I'll get it,” Richie assured her.

“I’ll bring Mr. MacLeod to the conference room and let him know you will there shortly,” she said and exited the room.

Showered and changed into his usual jeans and a faded Lucky Seven Jaeger Crew t-shirt, Richie bundled his sword into a duffel bag with his dirty laundry. Digging out his cell phone, he started to text Herc before he changed his mind. He had to stand up for himself and not feel as though he was hiding behind someone else, and if Duncan really had found out more, then he couldn’t ignore it.

As Poppy had promised, Duncan was in the small conference room just off the lobby. Duncan looked surprised that Richie was alone.

“I thought you might not want to see me alone,” he remarked. 

Richie shrugged slightly and pointed to the slightly open door. “Door’s open and this room is under video surveillance. Besides, if you wanted to kill me, you wouldn’t look so surprised that I took a risk.”

Duncan acknowledged that with a rueful smile.

“So, what brings you here?” 

“I was just in to see Yancy,” Duncan began. “I don’t think he’s healing as well as he’d like me to think. He’s still grieving over losing the little girl we tried to save.” At Richie’s inquiring look, Duncan explained, “Faye didn’t have a really good immune system and she didn’t tolerate getting stuck with needles well. By the time I figured out she had whooping cough, it was too late, and she’d already given it to Yancy.”

“So how did you get him to come here finally?” Richie wondered. 

“Stuck him with a sedative and got Cory to fly us here,” Duncan said. “If he started waking up, I’d sedate him again. Not the way I wanted to fly him here, but I’d already tried multiple times to get him to come willingly and he wouldn’t do it.” 

“Too afraid of what his brother would think?”

“Part of it, I’m sure,” Duncan said. “Yancy said his brother was very angry and disappointed with him.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Richie countered. Not wanting to get into a debate over Yancy, Richie decided to get to the point of the meeting. “So have you found out anything more about who’s trying to win the Game by cheating?”

Duncan shook his head. “Not much, but we’ve narrowed it down to someone in either China, the Philippines, or Indonesia.” Duncan shrugged. “You know how there’s always someone trying to be the big fish of the local pond.”

“My sources narrow it down to someone in Indonesia or China,” Richie offered. “Where’s Connor by the way?”

“He’s meeting with someone who knows the black market here – Hannibal Chau I think he said was the name. I’m apparently too dignified to talk to someone like that.”

Richie didn’t quite hide the grin.

“What?” Duncan demanded irritably. “Is it the way I dress?”

“Dress, talk, move,” Richie ticked off the list. “Connor’s still scruffy and disrespectable, and he likes it that way.”

Duncan grumbled at that assessment. “Anything from your end as to where the plasma rifles are coming from?”

“They were distributed to state and local forces globally as a first line of defense. We’d have to have serial numbers to even attempt to find out where they went.”

Duncan sighed. “We’ll keep looking then,” he said. “I hope to have better news in a few days. I didn’t realize just how much I’d started to rely on the Internet until it was unavailable on a regular basis. Here, especially, it feels like we’re back to relying more on what information we can gain by talking to people.”

“Government censorship at its finest,” Richie told him. “Plus, you and I both know that the kind of people who’d deal in appropriated arms would be better at hiding their tracks on the Internet. We’d have to be hackers to find them.”

Duncan chuckled ruefully. “If Connor and I can’t find them, I’m going to have to consider that route.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d see a day when hunting a hunter would be more difficult than crossing the ocean on a boat.” He looked at Richie. “Do you have hackers on staff here?”

“Yes, but they’re not like us…” Richie started to protest, then said, “Let me check with Herc, but yeah, we ought to see if we can find whoever it is that way. You don’t know of anyone?”

“Besides Connor and you? Didn’t you take a course or something?”

“On how to diagnose the computers in cars and in jaegers,” Richie told him. “I think I know who to ask before we get civilians involved: Matthew McCormick.”

“He’s still around?”

Richie nodded before studying his former teacher a moment. “Just how out of touch have you been, Mac?”

“Took Yancy in, and if Amanda and Cory didn’t stop by occasionally, I’m not sure I’d know where you or Connor were. I hunkered down for the end of the world.”

Duncan’s admittance of that made Richie reevaluate the Highlander. “That explains some comments they made,” Richie noted. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Duncan had been more affected by the war; immortals still felt emotions like everyone else, and Richie knew his former mentor was a deeply passionate man.

“I really thought I’d killed Connor in 2000,” Duncan admitted. “Maybe you were right to stay as far away from me as you have, Richie. Demons seem to find me a ripe target.”

“And maybe you take on more than you should,” Richie noted tartly. He didn’t like seeing the older man so convinced that it was all his fault; that road led to demons, bad magic, and a depressed Highlander as far as Richie was concerned. “How long as it been since then?”

“Long enough to find someone better to target, according to Connor,” Duncan said, straightening his posture unconsciously.

“You know what Connor told me about demons?”

Duncan looked at Richie expectantly.

“They still use people to carry out their machinations.”

Duncan smiled. “That sounds like Connor.” He looked at Richie a moment before asking, “You don’t think there’s a demon involved here, do you?”

Richie shook his head. “No. A tech-savvy headhunter, but no demons.”

“How can you be sure?” Duncan demanded.

“Because if you looked at your Quickening, at the way a demon stains it, you’d know,” Richie said quietly. “I took the head of a healer as a favor to end her life, and she taught me a few things about how to look at magic.”

Duncan digested that information. “I try not to look at my Quickening too much. Probably one of the things that make Connor crazy, I'm sure. When this is over, I’d like to know those things, if you’re willing to show me. I know you don’t owe me any favors, so if you choose not to, I understand.”

“Ask Connor,” Richie countered. “He’s the one who helped me with control.” Richie grinned slightly. “You know his teacher still talks to him.”

“Every time I think I know…” Duncan started, then shook his head. “So you’re still mad at me.”

“I didn’t say that,” Richie snapped, incredulous at the interpretation. “I can’t forget what happened, Mac. That’s not going to change. I’m willing to put that aside because we have a common problem, but you and I aren’t going to be who we were two decades ago.”

Duncan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Fair enough.”

Not wanting to dwell further on the issue, Richie said briskly, “You’re staying at the Sheraton?”

Duncan rattled off his suite number. “In case Yancy heals up faster, but I doubt that will happen. I’d prefer to be able to take him home without this headhunter threat.”

“I'm sure he'd appreciate that.” Richie paused. “I’ll let you know about the hacker and if we find anything more. And Mac?” 

“Yes?”

“I can’t promise you that we’ll break out a bottle of old cognac at the end of this and be friends again, but I will say that I hope that you don’t spend the next decade mourning what didn’t happen.”

Duncan half-smiled at that. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He waited respectfully for a PPDC security guard to escort him out of the room.

Richie waited until they had cleared the hallway before he headed over to speak to Herc about what he’d learned. He felt better for having come to a kind of truce with Duncan, but now he was worried. Was Duncan even ready to face a headhunter when his attention was distracted by his concern over Yancy and his own inner turmoil? Richie didn’t think so and texted Connor. 

_Your cousin isn’t in the right frame of mind to hunt._

**_I know_ , **came the reply. **_But maybe now that he’s talked to you, he will be._**

_Kick his ass until you’re sure._

**_Planned on it_. _You’re okay?_**

_Talked to him alone and survived it. Going to call Matthew next, see if he knows a hacker, then talk to Herc. It sounds like pounding the pavement isn’t working._

**_Chau says he’s doesn’t deal with gunrunners. Too dangerous. He’s only interested in kaiju parts. He said there are rumors of a new player in that market, some crazy foreigner who can’t speak Cantonese well. Yancy getting better?_ **

_Last I heard, yes. Watch your head out there, Connor._

Richie didn’t expect a reply from Connor, so he went ahead and dialed Matthew. He wound up leaving a message due to the time difference, but he felt confident that Matthew would return his call.

* * *

“Do you know who’s in Medical with all that security?” Shawn Reardon, one of the newer jaeger pilots, asked his sister as they sat down in the entertainment room with the other pilots. Both siblings were typical Newfoundlanders in both looks and speech. “I heard it was some bigwig.”

Shannon rolled her eyes. “You are the biggest gossip in this ‘dome, I swear,” she chided him. “So what else have you heard?”

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” Curtis Mason told her, looking up from the book he was reading. His calm leadership had earned him the prime rank of Ranger Leader among the six newest jaeger pilots. He was a sandy brown haired Brit who looked like a muscle-bound surfer.

“Oh, come on,” Shawn said. “Like you haven’t been asking for information yourself. I’ve never seen that place so locked up.”

“So what if they have some VIP?” Võ Chuyên, Curtis’s copilot, asked. “If they wanted us to know, they would tell us. I do not want you to be the source of why we all get punished again.”

“That was one time and I got my ass beat for that by Senior Ranger Hansen,” Shawn pointed out. “And it was last year. I’m not asking for information. I’m just wondering aloud.” 

“Give it up,” Rémy Lambert advised. “I’ve seen all the senior staff headed that way so whoever it is, they’re not telling us for a damned good reason.”

“I think it’s Scott Hansen,” Shawn speculated.

“Can’t be,” Shannon countered. “Remember what they taught us? The only Mark-1-era pilots that were still alive at the time of Operation Pitfall were Herc Hansen, the Kaidonovskys, and Stacker Pentecost. All others were dead. Same thing with the Mark-2 pilots. Well, except Scott Hansen, and nobody's said where he is, so I guess he might as well be dead for all we know.”

Shawn frowned. “So who were the Mark-3 pilots? The Beckets and who else?” 

“They only made twenty Mark-3 jaegers,” Fai She noted from her position next to Rémy. “All but Raleigh died in combat or from combat-related injuries.” 

Shawn’s frown deepened. “Why do I think there were supposed to be more?”

“Because there were,” Curtis said. “The fleet was supposed to be upgraded to at least Mark-3’s, Mark-4’s if the funding went through. But Striker Eureka had cost overruns and it ate into the Mark-3 replacement budget.”

Shawn grumbled. “Wonder if the Hansens know that.”

“If they don’t, I’m pretty sure they would by now, given how much we get asked if the money the PPDC is spending on us is worth it. I swear we could save a cruise ship full of a thousand people from being shipwrecked in a typhoon and they’d still ask us if we’re worth it,” Fai grumbled.

“Maybe that should be our goal this year,” Rémy joked. “Prove that we’re like the Red Cross: we save lives.”

Curtis took that cue to turn the conversation away from Shawn’s speculation. From his position in the security control room, Jeremy Livojević, the chief of PPDC security, breathed a sigh of relief before looking to the petite woman in the room with him. “You know Shawn’s not going to give up until he knows the truth,” he warned her. He spoke English with a Croatian accent, having learned it as a teenager, and was wont to complain that Australian and American English were completely different languages than the English he’d learned.

Deputy Marshal Dylan Carrodus sighed. “I’ll talk to Herc, but if our special guest doesn’t want to be known again, I’ll talk to Shawn. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark.”

“Maybe you should head it off?” Jeremy asked.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dylan said as she shook her head. With her small stature, pixie-like features, and blonde hair, she was a dead ringer for Tinker Bell. She’d spent most of Kaiju War as the marshal of the Sydney Shatterdome and had jumped at the opportunity to help Herc build a new future for the PPDC. She’d developed a reputation as a compassionate but tough leader who cared a lot about her people. She was also a Watcher, a member of a secret society who recorded the history of immortals. She was assigned to both Hansens.

Jeremy had spent his teenage years in the care of an immortal thief named Cory, who was friends with Richie Ryan. Richie had deliberately recommended Jeremy for the position, knowing that by doing so, he was ensuring that the secret of immortality would not be given to someone who was not previously vetted. Jeremy knew of Dylan’s involvement with the Watchers; he knew, too, that she considered the Hansens to be good friends, and regretted that she'd sometimes put the PPDC first ahead of everything else. 

Now both were wrestling with the knowledge that Yancy Becket wasn’t dead, and how to prevent their resident want-to-know-it-all from learning the truth too soon. “Because Shawn doesn’t give up?”

“Because we have to control the information, either way,” Dylan said. “And if you give Shawn an inch, he’ll take a mile. Remember how he was last year with wanting to learn sword fighting? I still think Chuck went too far with using Raleigh’s move on Shawn.” 

Jeremy shuddered. “Agreed; I think Chuck was trying to impress Raleigh at the same time.” He considered his options for a moment. “Maybe it’s time to get Shawn out, away from here. He seems to get fixated on what’s happening here if it’s been too long since a deployment or a night out. Weather’s looking good this week and we’ve already scheduled who’ll take the jaegers out for training.” He checked the schedule. “And I thought right: the Reardons are on stand down.” He brought up the websites of the clubs the jaeger pilots frequented before settling on one and making a phone call to the club.

“This is Jeremy Livojević of the PPDC,” he said in Cantonese. “I wanted to let you know that some of our pilots will be at your club tonight. Ah, yes, they really like your club and I understand that you have a special surprise guest tonight. Could you please let me know who that is? Really? Ranger Shawn Reardon really likes her. Is it too late to get him and his sister tickets, maybe a total of four? Ah, yes, of course we’ll bring our own security, but we do want to pay – ah, yes, thank you, I’ll hold.” As marshal, Herc wanted no repeats of the kind of gifting that had led to his brother’s downfall and had instituted a ‘no freebies for jaeger pilots or for any PPDC member’ policy, which technically had existed on the books since the UN had an anti-corruption policy, but had been ignored in favor of acknowledging world gratitude.

After waiting a moment, Jeremy was able to provide a credit card for the tickets and receive a receipt via email. He hung up the phone before turning to Dylan and saying in English, “Donna Gentry is playing at the Neon Lounge tonight. Want to be the messenger?” 

Dylan smiled. “You got tickets for just him and his sister?”

“Just him and his sister – it’s a sold out show, and she’s the mystery guest. Opener’s that live-karaoke band Shannon likes.” 

“I’ll let them know.” Dylan looked relieved at the news. “Maybe this will distract him long enough to forget about it for a while.”

“Hopefully. I like them all too much to have to keep being the bad guy.” He grinned as he added in an exaggerated accent, “Too much like Hollywood.”

Dylan laughed and patted his shoulder before exiting the room. 

* * *

Yancy ate his lunch, grateful that because of his checkup that morning, he’d been given authorization to order more solid food, heavy on the protein. Still, mindful of Dr. Chandel’s warning to eat slowly so he didn’t get bloated, he paced himself. He debated whether eating the milky white gelatin substance that had been put on his plate counted as dessert; it was neither sweet nor tasted like milk. Deciding that his lunch had been carefully calculated for its caloric count (since it would not be a PPDC meal otherwise), he chose to eat it. He’d just finished it when Raleigh walked into the room, Chuck a step behind. Unlike previous visits, Chuck looked faintly annoyed, more like the Chuck Yancy remembered seeing on TV.

“I, uh, I talked to Mako,” Raleigh blurted, breaking the silence. “I’m sorry about Faye.”

 _Well, that was relatively quick_ , Yancy thought, glancing at the clock on the tablet he’d propped up on the rolling table. It was almost one o’clock in the afternoon. “What, you didn’t believe me but you believed her?” he asked, irritated. “I’m your brother.”

“Who is still keeping secrets,” Raleigh shot back. “Why didn’t Mama tell us? Did Jazmine know and why is she dead if we heal from most everything?”

“Because Mama was following tradition, and for god’s sake, sit the fuck down. Chuck, if you’re just going to fucking loom over everything, I’m not intimidated anymore. I get it: you love my brother and if I fuck it up again, you’ll hurt me.”

“Good, then finish telling Raleigh what he needs to know about being a werewolf, because I hate it when he starts obsessing over finding rings that seem to want to stay lost so he doesn’t shift anymore.” Chuck located the second guest chair and sat down closer to the door, as if he thought Raleigh might rabbit.

Yancy’s eyes narrowed at that choice of location and at Chuck's words before he turned to Raleigh. “Look, Jaz shifted too early. Remember the golden brown dog we had sometimes?”

It took Raleigh a minute to place the memory. “That was her?”

“Yeah. Mama told her when she was six years old, and then didn’t tell her that she shouldn’t shift until she was at least a teenager. We don’t get the natural lubrication that eases joint pain until –” 

“- we’ve mostly gotten through puberty,” Raleigh finished, guessing, and Yancy nodded. “But why would Mama tell her so early?”

“So she could start taking notes and continue the family journals,” Yancy explained, coughing slightly. “I have them; Jazmine willed them to us. Fire is one of the things that will kill us, as you’ve probably figured out already. That means we’ll always have drive suit burns –” 

“You don’t have any,” Raleigh noted.

“Still have the one on my inside thigh from when the circuit fried and I couldn’t disengage from the harness. Remember that?”

“Yeah, you were freaking out,” Raleigh agreed. “But if Jazmine knew what we’d all be, how come she didn’t tell us?”

“Mama made her swear not to,” Yancy said, and watched his brother groan.

“So she couldn’t say why she was so upset every time we got hurt or got in a fight other than she was worried. She also was in constant joint pain – remember how she claimed she had arthritis and we all just thought she was a drama queen about it?” 

“But why was she doing cleanup after a kaiju attack? Can we really survive kaiju blue?”

“I don’t think so,” Yancy replied. “Respiratory shit - as you can see - can be hell for us. Jaz knew exactly what she was getting into by doing that shit. There’s an interview she did for one of the TV newsmagazines where she said she was hoping to redeem the Becket name.” As if on cue, Yancy coughed again.

Raleigh closed his eyes briefly as Chuck swore quietly. “Hell of way to do it,” Chuck noted. “But if your sister wanted to die, why do something that’s so public?”

“If someone dies of kaiju blue, the body is put in an acid bath, which dissolves the body and neutralizes the smell before what’s left can be burned,” Yancy said quietly. “Like I said, Jazzy was in a lot of pain. I’ve read her last entry. She wrote that she could barely move without strong medication, and that one of the witches in the company offered to make sure her body served science, with ‘science’ noted in quotation marks and lots of doodles that make me think Jaz didn’t think the offer was meant in good faith.”

“So she made sure to take a job that would mean her lasting death,” Chuck summarized. “Do you Beckets do anything halfway?”

Raleigh and Yancy looked at each other. “No,” they said simultaneously.

Raleigh stared at his brother before laughing helplessly. “I missed you, damn it,” he told Yancy. “Why did you have to stay away for so fucking long?”

“Told you,” Yancy said. “And I guess…I guess I didn’t think I could measure up anymore. You helped save the world, Rals. What did you need with me?” 

“Idiot,” Raleigh shot back. “Who else is going to tell me if I’m going to shift spontaneously in the middle of having sex?”

“Duncan,” Yancy retorted.

“How does he know?”

“Because he fell in love with a werewolf a century ago. It’s how he knows what he knows.”

Raleigh contemplated that a moment. “I don’t know him. As far as I’m concerned, he didn’t do enough to get your ass here sooner. He probably could’ve, you know.”

“I do,” Yancy replied. “And some of that’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” He coughed then reached for the glass of water he’d poured for himself as part of his lunch and drank. “I don’t know how else to make it up to you, kid.”

“Just answer the damn question,” Raleigh said. “I was pushing your buttons to see if you’d push back, and Mako said you were still grieving over Faye.”

Yancy bit his lip. “I had this notion I could show her to you as proof I wasn’t goofing off.”

Raleigh looked at him. “People aren’t toys, Yancy.”

“I know, I know, but…” At Raleigh’s continued glaring, Yancy finished with, “Yeah, well, you were always better with ideas than me. I guess I’ve got this week to help you with the werewolf stuff and then I have to figure out where I’m going next.”

“But you just got here. How long did it take you to shift without having to think so hard? And can’t we spend some time together without all the damn monitoring devices attached to you?”

“I don’t know,” Yancy said. “I’d like to get my name back first, and if you don’t need me here, I don’t –”

Raleigh growled. “Quit fucking running, Yancy, or I will kick your ass. There’s a guest room with your name on it and if there isn’t one, I will find one.” He breathed out deliberately. “I need you, brother. Right now, I don’t like being a werewolf at all.”

Yancy studied him. “There are only three ways you can shift – one, if you will yourself to change shapes; two, if a witch forces you to; or three, if you die of something other than the two diseases or respiratory illness. Anything that turns us to ash is permanent. Well, okay, if you get angry enough, you can shift too, but that's more an involuntary thing that if you practice enough, you won't.”

“So you can’t shift during sex.”

“Not unless you want to,” Yancy said. “And if you do, please don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

Raleigh made a face. “Like I’d tell you the gory details of my sex life. So shifting does get easier the more you practice?”

Yancy nodded. “Like I told Mako, it took me six months of shifting every twelve hours before it stopped sounding so damn loud. I’ve probably spent too much time as a wolf. It feels a little harder to think in this shape.”

Chuck cleared his throat. “You two going to be okay if I leave you alone?”

Raleigh moved to kiss him. “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” he said. “You going to talk to your dad?”

“And Richie if I can find him,” Chuck said. “They haven’t said anything more about this problem we’re having –”

“I can smell the ozone that makes you smell different from other people,” Yancy interrupted. “I know about immortals. Duncan told me he was one when he rescued me.”

“– With the headhunter,” Chuck finished, acknowledging Yancy’s words. “The deal I have with your brother is that all he wants to know is when it’s his problem to solve. That okay with you or do you want more info?”

“What kind of details?”

“Who, why, where, what I look like after a challenge before I’ve cleaned up,” Chuck said bluntly.

“Then I’m with Raleigh: until I need to know, I don’t want to. Leave me a note if you think it’ll make a difference later.”

“Got it,” Chuck said. To Raleigh, he said, “I’ll text you if this winds up taking all afternoon.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He kissed Chuck goodbye before deliberately turning his focus to Yancy and sitting back down in the chair closest to Yancy’s bed. “Anything else I should know about being a werewolf? Like, if I found Mama’s ring, would it stop me from shifting?”

“If you found the ring, sure, but you’d only be hurting yourself. Shifting gets easier with practice, and if you shift with protective jewelry on like Jaz did, it just hurts worse to remind you that you aren’t supposed to do it.”

“What if I don’t want to shift at all?”

“Then you find a witch to take out everything that makes you a werewolf.” Yancy coughed. “Process will kill you, of course, but hey, you’re not a werewolf anymore.”

Raleigh's jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”

“Course I’m serious. That’s how Duncan found me. Witch was going to drain my blood to make a magic healing potion. Not that said potion would’ve worked on a human or for what she’d intended it to work on, mind you, because werewolf blood only works on another werewolf.”

Raleigh stared at him. “Where did you stop trying to find me?”

“In a refugee camp five miles from Holy Cross. The Wall was scheduled to go up there – I remember seeing the signs.” 

Raleigh froze for a moment. “They changed the routing,” he said softly. “We bypassed Holy Cross entirely and put it outside of the Wall. They put most of the wildlife refuge outside of the Wall to save on costs. I think they figured that was acceptable collateral damage, even if it put a good portion of the Alaskan population outside of the safe zone.”

Yancy looked at him. “Why did you build it anyway?” 

“Had to eat,” he said with a shrug. “They promised me I’d get my pain and PTSD meds too if I signed up, but that was a lie.” He laughed ruefully. “If I’d run into you in Holy Cross…I don’t think I could’ve done what I did, bro. Wasn’t until Mako and I were dropping for that last battle that I realized I wanted to live and think about tomorrow.”

Yancy’s breath caught. With a painful swallow, he breathed out. “Did I ruin anything by showing up now instead?”

“Damn it, Yancy, will you stop with that shit? I’m sorry I was being a brat but I thought you weren’t reacting like I thought you should, okay?”

“And what way was that?”

“Pushing back like the brother I knew would,” Raleigh replied. “You never let me get away with shit before. Why are you starting now?”

“Because it’s been seven years and I’m out of practice?” Yancy tried.

“What, the sheep didn’t talk back and say, ‘No, I don’t want to be herded today, thank you very much?’”

“They told me all the time that I smelled wrong to be a herding dog.”

Raleigh chuckled. “But you herded them anyway.” He paused. “Look, I know you’re still mourning and you’ve been sick, so I’ll cut you some slack. But I can’t learn from you all about being a werewolf if all I have is a week. Besides, I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to get your name back, since you’ve been gone so long.” 

Yancy blinked. “But I learned in less than a week.”

“Yancy, I don’t retain information like I used to,” Raleigh explained patiently. “I forget random shit. I get frustrated that I forget random shit, which makes me forget even more. Right now I'm not sure how I managed to shift the last time or even the first time. Do you get why I’m freaking out so damn much?” 

“You think you’ll forget how to be human again,” Yancy realized. “Or vice versa.” He paused. “Maybe we should practice, and Chuck or Mako can tape me walking you through it?”

“You think it’ll be that easy?” 

“What, like fighting the first Cat-5 kaiju was?” Yancy shot back.

Raleigh grinned. “No. Fucker wouldn’t die. Blew him half up and still had to stab him through the heart. Mako was almost out of oxygen and I didn’t have much left either.” 

Yancy studied his brother. “This is easier, trust me.” He coughed twice.

Raleigh poured him more water and passed the glass over to him. “So what do you see as good about being a werewolf?”

Yancy didn’t hesitate. “Not dying from the fall out of the conn-pod for one. Remember how cold it was that day? Plus, that fall would’ve broken every bone in my body – the water would’ve been like cement. I got shot by a plasma rifle, Rals. That alone should’ve killed me again. I’m still here. If I hadn’t been a stubborn asshole, Faye might be alive – but I could smell death on her and I think…I think a part of me wanted to give up.” 

Raleigh shot him a look. “I’ll tell you the same thing I’d have told Jaz if I’d known she was in that much pain: don’t give up until everything’s been ruled out as options.” 

“When did you get to be so smart, kid?” 

“When I stopped believing I had nothing left to live for,” Raleigh admitted quietly. “You know, Tendo’s going to freak when we tell him.”

“Tendo’s still around?” Yancy said, surprised. 

“He’s the chief LOCCENT officer,” Raleigh said. “He and his family live off base – Alison didn’t want to raise their little girl in the Shatterdome.” 

“Alison? He didn’t. Tell me he didn’t marry that girl.”

“Yeah, he married her.” Raleigh grinned. “I’ve been having a hard time not telling him all week. Figured you might want to do it yourself.” 

Yancy grinned. “Can you hold out until the end of the week? I don’t want to be coughing as much, because I’m sure he’s going to want to give me one of his bear hugs.”

Raleigh nodded. “You, uh, want to tell anyone else?”

“Not ready to be on CNN, if that’s what you’re asking,” Yancy said, coughing again. “Just don’t want to be living as someone else, either.” He coughed harder and swore. He was sick of coughing, sick of feeling like he was sucking air through a straw, sick of his ribs aching, and he knew if he hadn't been a werewolf, he probably would be feeling even worse. “Get the nurse; I think my cough medicine’s worn off.”

Raleigh moved quickly, and the nurse appeared just as Yancy finished coughing, one arm across his chest in an attempt to clutch his ribs.

“I think that’s it for visitors today,” she declared as she measured out a dose of cough syrup. “This will likely make you drowsy.”

Yancy made a face. “Heard that one before.”

“Well, you need to sleep and rest,” she chided as she handed over the dose. “Your brother can come back.”

Yancy downed the cough syrup and made a predictable face at the artificial cherry taste. “Go be with Chuck,” he told Raleigh.

“You’ll be okay?” Raleigh asked, worried.

“Olena here will keep an eye on me,” Yancy said, gesturing to the nurse, who made the appropriate assurances.

Raleigh left reluctantly. Yancy knew things weren’t settled yet, but he felt confident that he and his brother were in a better place. _I’m going to have to thank Mako_ , he thought. _Somehow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader's choice poll: the headhunter is:  
> a) someone in the PPDC  
> b) someone known to one of the younger jaeger pilots  
> c) someone known to Yancy and Duncan from the farm years  
> d) someone known to the Hansens  
> e) someone known to Raleigh  
> or  
> f) someone completely random.
> 
> Let me know in the comments. I know who I'm picking, but I'm curious to see what your answers are. :-)


	17. Chapter 17

In wolf form, Yancy made his way to the farm that was at the end of the road. Today was the first frost, and the ground was cold and hard under his feet, but he’d made a habit out of visiting the Walters family, especially the four kids, who were all under the age of eleven. William and Julie, the parents, called themselves survivalists. They’d bragged to Duncan that they’d been planning for the end of the world since 1976, when William’s parents had bought the farm and started equipping it to be self-sustaining before turning it over to William and retiring elsewhere. They had a small herd of goats, a handful of pigs, and like most everyone else around, chickens as well. Yancy couldn’t conceive of raising kids in wartime, but he wasn’t the Walters, who’d apparently planned every pregnancy except the last one. Mason was the oldest boy at ten, followed by Ryder, who was eight, then the girls: Emma, who was six, and little Olivia, who was two years old. It was for them that Yancy made the trip. The Walters were homeschooling their kids, and some of the things Yancy had heard had made him realize the kids were getting some fire and brimstone along with their lessons on American history, English, and math. He’d argued with Duncan at length over whether he had the right to correct the kids. Duncan had silenced him with, “When I was a child, I didn’t know how to write my name and the priest was the one with the knowledge of things beyond how to kill a man with a sword while on horseback. I grew up and moved away and I learned eventually that the world was bigger than what even that old priest knew.”

“Yes, but none of these kids are going to grow up to be like you!”

“What would you do? Tell them the world isn’t what their parents say it is and destroy their trust in the people who are teaching them how to live off the land in wartime?”

“Duncan, even you know Columbus didn’t discover anything that hadn’t already been found before.”

Duncan sighed. “Then tell them about legends and stories from other places. Or just go over there and be the friendly wolf, to counteract the story about the big bad one.” 

Yancy alternated between those two extremes. It had become his routine to let the kids play with him, even allow them to ride him sometimes as long as they weren’t too rough, and he played hide and seek. It amused Yancy to know that as far as the animals on that farm were concerned, the goats were in charge – not the German shepherd, who was barely trained in how to behave around humans, let alone other animals that were not dogs. He greeted the buck, who made his usual claims of ownership along with the standard question of what kind of wolf visited humans, which Yancy ignored.

“I swear you just look bigger everyday,” Julie Walters said as she opened the door of the farmhouse to let out the children. “What in the world is Duncan feeding you over there?”

“Sheep, Mom,” Emma said, running out to bury her hands in Yancy’s fur, one arm clutching a teddy bear. “He feeds him sheep.”

Julie laughed. “Well, considering that’s what he’s raising, I suppose that’s true. Now make sure you don’t spend too much time out here, children. I’m sure Yancy has other people to visit today, don’t you, big boy?”

The memory faded as Yancy realized he’d been staring at the TV screen without seeing it. He realized a commercial featuring a little girl with a teddy bear had triggered him. He wondered if Duncan had managed to bring their shared tablet with them to Hong Kong; it had all of the photographs Yancy had managed to take of the families that had once populated their little slice of farm country. Using the tablet he was borrowing, Yancy made himself a note to ask Duncan.

A knock sounded on the wall, bringing him out of his reverie. Looking over, he saw Herc, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with his Lucky Seven vest over it. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

Yancy shook his head.

“Good. Grace said you were better; I wanted to wait to speak to you until you could talk more easily.” He sat down in the guest chair. “Here’s the good news: if you want to reclaim your name, there’s some paperwork to fill out, it’ll take about two weeks, maybe three if the US State Department throws a shit fit, but you’ll be you again.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“Bad news is that we have to do a song and dance about how you were found, who took care of you, and why you weren’t in any shape to pilot a jaeger two years ago.”

Yancy processed that. “So what’s the pretty lie that I’m supposed to be trotting out?”

“You were found by a farmer who was in an evacuation zone. You didn’t remember who you were – only that your name was Yancy – and it took you a while to realize the truth.”

Yancy whistled softly. “Does Duncan know?”

“He does, and he’ll swear that he didn’t know who you were because he quit watching TV in 1998, when they cancelled his favorite show. He doesn’t own a computer and he only reads books on his Kindle.” Herc paused. “I talked to Duncan yesterday and asked how he managed to find you, take care of you, and get you here. I’ve also talked to Raleigh, Chuck, and Mako. They all tell me the same thing: that Duncan saved you, sheltered you, and tried to help you. You repaid that by killing two men who’d decided using plasma rifles on a farm nobody else cared about was the most fun thing in the world, thus preventing them from revealing immortality and werewolves.” 

The compassion and understanding on Herc’s face made Yancy remember that Herc had been a decorated RAAF soldier long before the Kaiju War. Yancy swallowed hard. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I just wanted them disabled so they would think twice, but one of them pulled my tail and it hurt so bad, I just reacted and bit one of them. Then the other reacted and I…I clawed him to stop him from reaching his gun. Didn’t mean to kill them, but they’d already killed Duncan and were just shooting the sheep to shoot them.” He met Herc’s gaze. “Should I be sorrier?”

“I’m not a shrink, Yancy, but I can tell you that if it was them or you, you defended yourself. It’s a small comfort, I know, but it’s one you can live with,” Herc said. “Talk to Dr. P’Eng if you want to get a better handle on it than that.” He looked at Yancy. “It’s Monday now. Grace says at the rate you’re healing, you’ll be fit for travel by the end of the week, but we’re happy to put you up in a guest room here until we have your identity reestablished and you’ve decided on where you’re headed to next. We will have to have a press conference, unfortunately.”

“Can’t I just quietly go on?” Yancy asked, coughing as he tried to sit up more.

“You’re a former jaeger pilot found alive,” Herc noted. “If we as the PPDC didn’t trot you out like the show pony you are, someone else with less compassion will try, and this way, you control the story.” He studied Yancy as he produced a tablet. “We can wait until the end of the week to do the press shit, but if you sign these forms, we can get started on reclaiming your identity.”

Yancy took the tablet and scanned through the legalese. It didn’t seem as nefarious as what he remembered signing to become a jaeger pilot. “It says here to produce proof of identity?”

“We have your birth certificate on record, and medical records from when you were a jaeger pilot as well as from last week,” Herc assured him. “That scar on your thigh alone is hard to fake.”

Yancy half-smiled at that and continued reading. Not finding anything else, he signed the form when prompted by the screen and handed the tablet back to Herc. “Will I owe you guys anything for this?” 

Herc shook his head. “Consider it part of your veteran’s benefits.”

Yancy drew in a breath and coughed violently instead. Once he’d regained his breath, he told Herc, “Better schedule that press conference while I’m still coughing. It’ll be more believable that I was sick then.”

“You sure?”

Yancy coughed again. “What’s my excuse for not piloting a rebuilt Gipsy to cancel the apocalypse? More believable if I’ve been sick for two years.”

Herc didn’t look too pleased at that, but he accepted it. “I’ll send Birgit, the head of public relations, to speak with you this afternoon.” He paused before adding, “The current pilots will be briefed so that they know what to say in future interviews. If you want to talk to them personally, that’ll be your choice, but I’ll warn you now that Shawn Reardon likes to know everything.”

“Are you saying he’s too curious for his own good?”

“Yes, and it’s not that he doesn’t understand that he doesn’t need to know, it’s just that he wants his curiosity satisfied.”

Yancy chuckled softly. “Yeah, I understand that one. My sister was like that.”

“And I’ll let Tendo know.”

Yancy winced. “He’s going to kick my ass for not being here sooner.”

Herc smiled. “Bet he’ll forgive you faster than your brother did.”

“Think I should tell him the truth?”

“Your call,” Herc said. “But keep in mind that he’s likely to tell his wife, and it’s not just your secret, but your brother’s as well.”

“Right,” Yancy said. “What do you tell people?”

Herc winced. “I don’t recommend showing without explaining first.”

Yancy looked at him. “Got it.” He thought about it. “I don’t want to say anything to Tendo. At least, not before I talk to Raleigh. And…” He hated saying it, but it seemed reasonable, “and maybe it’s better if we limit who knows. Does Tendo know about immortals?”

Herc shook his head. “If he suspects anything, he’s never said.”

“In that case…I don’t think,” Yancy coughed, “I don’t think I know him well enough to know anymore to judge whether he can handle it.” 

“I’ll let him know the story we agreed upon,” Herc said. He patted Yancy’s shoulder awkwardly and left the room.

Twenty minutes later, Tendo burst into the room. “I knew it!” he crowed. “If anybody could survive a fall like that, it would be a Becket boy.”

“Your faith in our resilience is reassuring,” Yancy said. 

Tendo shrugged and grinned. “When it comes to you two, I’ve started to believe in miracles.”

 

 _Yancy Becket Found Alive_ – _The Pan Pacific Defense Corps revealed this afternoon that it has been treating one of Gipsy Danger’s original pilots, Yancy Becket. Incredibly, Yancy survived the fall out of the conn-pod. He does not remember how he came to be on a sheep farm in one of the evacuation zones and says he only patched together whom he was once widespread Internet connections became available. When CNN’s Hong Kong correspondent visited to do the interview, Yancy was still recovering from a bout with whooping cough, one of the many illnesses that were rampant in kaiju-attacked areas due to low vaccination rates during the pre-Kaiju-War years. He is expected to recover. While justifiably proud of his brother, Yancy stated that he does not think he could have done what his brother did, given that he has been battling respiratory illnesses since his fall out of Gipsy Danger’s conn-pod._

_\- from CNN video report_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like getting a call and a hangup at 6:30 AM from my brother to start my day in a panic, because y'know, nobody calls that early without Reasons. He's fine - he just lost his phone on the bus and a very sweet woman found it and got it back to him by calling the numbers on his phone until someone local answered. Whoever you are - thank you for being a Good Samaritan! :-)
> 
> This one chapter is brought to you by the letter 'L', for loyalty and for love.
> 
> Also, if Find-a-Date.com exists, that is merely a coincidence and in no way is a statement of what kind of people are on that site, its terms & conditions, or anything of the like. Please be safe when you date, regardless of where you meet that person. [steps off public announcement soapbox]

Richie had an intense dislike for divided loyalties. He especially hated asking a Watcher for information that would mean putting them in the middle of immortal business – but since he owed his life to one of them doing precisely that, he figured the least he could do was ask. The option, as always, was for that Watcher to say no. After speaking with Herc on Saturday, Richie knew they couldn’t keep hoping that the headhunter would stay away from prime targets. While he waited for Matthew to return his call, Richie was going to take a page out of Duncan’s book and ask a Watcher for information.

He found said Watcher in her quarters, looking as though she was getting ready to head out for the evening. Dylan wore a deep green cocktail dress that showed off her shoulders. Richie blinked at her sudden increase in height and realized she was wearing high heels.

“Richie!” she greeted, smiling and gesturing for him to step inside. “Come to give me advice on what to wear to my Find-a-Date.com date?”

“On a Monday night? And can you run in those heels? They’re, what, five inches high?”

Dylan wrinkled her nose. “Less people in the restaurant to witness the disaster, and yes, they’re five inches, and yes, I have run in them. See, how they're one piece across the bottom?”

“Okay, those look more stable. You had me worried you were wearing stilettos. Do you have a picture of your match?”

Dylan pulled out her phone and showed Richie a photo of a good-looking Filipino man.

“Says here he’s a real estate broker, likes dogs, and doesn’t like to date women who are taller than him. Yeah, he sounds positively awful,” Richie said, mock-sarcastic. “You had Jeremy run his profile?”

Dylan half-shrugged. “Yeah, he’s who he says he is and that’s what he looks like, but given my luck with that site, I’m not holding out much hope. This is the last one I’m obligated to go on before I can cancel, so… What really brings you here, since you usually don’t come knocking on my door unless you need my help?”

Richie hesitated for a moment. Dylan, like most people at the executive level in the PPDC, had put romance on hold during the war. Putting her off now, though, solved nothing, and was an insult to her intelligence and her ability to ferret out information. “Things you probably don’t want to hear,” he told her apologetically.

She set down the evening purse she’d started to fill. “Shut the door then and tell me.”

Richie did as requested, taking a seat in the faux leather couch that served as her guest seating. A scarf lay across the cushion, and he picked it up. “Who would want to hunt immortals with plasma rifles?”

Dylan blanched, then her eyes narrowed. “We took care of Annie Livengood,” she said fiercely. “Oh, I should say, Benjamin Adams did. He’s the one who found her snooping in the Beckets’ quarters and had her arrested, claiming she was ranting about immortals and wanting to shoot the dead.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Benjamin Adams, hmm?” He recognized the alias for Methos, the oldest immortal, who had a history of secreting himself in the Watchers for his own benefit. Richie wasn’t about to enlighten Dylan who Benjamin Adams was; he owed Methos favors he knew he could never repay. “So who was Annie Livengood?”

“Chief of security at the Anchorage Shatterdome around the time of Knifehead and at the time, a recent recruit to the Watchers,” Dylan said, sighing. “Unfortunately for us, she also belonged to a group who believed strongly that the Wall was a better choice and would do anything to make sure the Wall succeeded. The preliminary investigation found that she’d come into a large sum of money, which, in keeping with the PPDC’s rules for someone in her position, she declared as a grant from the Women in Defense of Humanity organization. That organization is a political lobby tied to several American politicians, including the American UN representative, and has been under investigation for corruption and bribery.”

“So what happened to her?” Richie asked.

“Two days after she was arrested, she was found dead in her cell. Someone had slit her throat with a garrote. Someone very much didn’t want her alive or able to come back from that death.” Dylan looked at Richie. “My money has always been on Benjamin Adams, given what he said then, but I can’t be sure. That Wall of Life was a waste of money and you can’t convince me some pockets weren’t lined along the way.” 

Richie nodded. “So who do you think it would be now?”

Dylan paused, clearly struggling where to draw the line between telling him information that was past and done and information that was present.

Richie didn’t hesitate to add pressure. “Come on, Dylan. I know you love Chuck like he was your son. If a hell of a lot of things been different, I’d be standing over here, just Herc’s best friend and not his lover. You’d be his lover, and the decision would be worse for you then.”

“Why do you suppose I didn’t take that shot when I had it?” she asked, looking at him with pained eyes. She drew a breath and told him, “Annie found out about immortality when she accidentally witnessed an immortal fight. The winner of that fight was Kevin Crump. Fortunately – or so we thought then – the person she confided in what she saw was a Watcher.”

“What does Kevin Crump do for a living?”

Dylan took a breath. “He’s one of the ones involved with stealing military weapons and selling them to the highest bidder.” Dylan stepped closer. “Richie, if the rumors are true and he’s the one hunting other immortals, then he’s not afraid to kill, and modern weapons are just tools to get where he wants to go.” 

Richie met her eyes. “So is magic,” he said quietly, and, using a bit of the same magic that allowed him to keep a sword on his body regardless of what he was wearing, plucked the scarf that had been on the chair out of her hair with what seemed like a sleight-of-hand trick. “Enjoy your date, Dylan.”

He was at the door when she noted, “Richie, you don’t have sleeves long enough to hide that scarf. How did you pull that off?”

He smiled, enjoying the fact that he’d managed to surprise a Watcher, and opened the door. “Keep it. It goes with your dress.”

“Of course it goes with my dress; it’s mine,” Dylan sputtered.

Richie laughed. He adored Dylan and had since he’d first met her as a jaeger tech for Lucky Seven. “Have I told you lately you’re a beautiful woman in a tiny and fierce package?”

“Go flatter Herc, you charmer, and leave me alone,” Dylan ordered, smiling even as she shook her head and shut her door firmly behind Richie.

Richie’s smile faded as he started down the hallway. Though he trusted Dylan’s information, experience had made Richie cautious. The last thing he wanted was to give somebody a reason to hunt him down later and attempt revenge. He wanted more proof before he acted, and he wanted to give the MacLeods a chance to find more answers. Waiting until he had confirmation from Matthew, or from the MacLeods, would go a long way to making Richie feel like he’d chosen the right target.

* * *

Chuck nominally had his own room, but over the course of their relationship, he’d moved into Raleigh’s, which had a queen size, handcrafted metalwork bed as its main feature. Chuck’s contribution had been to switch out the single-person chair and ottoman with a loveseat with a doublewide ottoman so that they could sit together in the room. He sat on the loveseat now, reading a book on his tablet. He’d left the door cracked open, the universal signal for ‘company wanted’, while he waited for Raleigh to return from his now-customary visit with his brother. Max was with Herc; Chuck didn’t expect to see his dog until later in the evening, when Max liked to come back home after spending time with his other master. Hearing claws on the tile hallway and judging from the sound that they were not Max’s, Chuck set down his tablet and rose to open the door further to allow Raleigh even better access to the room. In their wolf forms, both Beckets were the typical size and shape of gray wolves, but with blond coats. Yancy’s coat was darker in shade than his brother’s; he was also more confident in his wolf form than his brother.

Somehow, Chuck wasn’t surprised to see that Raleigh had shifted to wolf form. The discussion on Saturday, followed by even more discussions on Sunday, had gone a long way towards easing Raleigh’s fears about being stuck in one form or the other. As soon as Raleigh was completely inside the room, Chuck shut the door.

“Have a good visit with Yancy?” Chuck asked.

Raleigh shifted forms; the crack of his bones sounded less intense than it had the previous week. “Pretty good,” Raleigh said. “Yancy wanted to see how well I could hear him if I was shifted and he wasn’t.”

“Like a ghost Drift?”

Raleigh nodded. “Right now it seems to last maybe ten minutes max.”

“That could be useful if you wanted to get the last word in,” Chuck mused. “Anything else happen?” 

“The PPDC legal team is working on getting his identity back.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Chuck moved to kiss Raleigh, but Raleigh pushed him away. 

“Teeth feel funky and I need to piss. Hold that thought.”

Chuck raised an eyebrow but stepped aside to let Raleigh access the bathroom. It didn’t take long for Raleigh to return, still naked.

“Now, I believe I owe you a kiss?” Raleigh teased, leaning in to do just that.

Chuck kissed him slowly. He had intentions on going slow, but Raleigh had other ideas. Not one to turn down sex with this man, Chuck took the cue to get rid of what he was wearing until he too was naked. “In a hurry, love?” he teased. 

“Hungry to feel you inside me,” Raleigh admitted, “but I want dinner after sex so we can have more sex.” 

Chuck grinned and gently nudged Raleigh back towards the bed. “I like how you think.”

Raleigh went willingly. He pulled the covers back and laid down in the center of the bed. Chuck paused to snag a condom and lube out of the nightstand. Another time, he would willingly spend copious amount of time on prep, the act of foreplay enough to get them both aching for release. Some instinct told him to go for more immediate relief, so he put on the condom first.

Chuck never forgot that he was Raleigh’s first and only male lover. He intended to be his last. That meant, in Chuck’s mind, that every time they had sex was another chance to show Raleigh just how treasured he was to Chuck. He kissed Raleigh thoroughly before he moved to pay attention to Raleigh’s nipples and stroked his body, loving the sounds Raleigh made even as he tried to get Chuck to go lower.

Chuck would never admit it, but hearing Raleigh get filthy with his descriptions of what he wanted Chuck to do was its own turn-on. Giving in was a sweet reward. This moment was no exception to that rule. 

“Please, damn it,” Raleigh said breathlessly, long, passionate-filled minutes later. “Please just fuck me.”

Chuck grinned crookedly and did exactly as requested. “This what you wanted?”

Raleigh grunted and thrust up. “More,” he told Chuck. “We just got started.”

Smothering a laugh, Chuck leaned down to kiss him. As always, those words made Chuck want to make his lover so out of his mind with pleasure that he couldn’t talk – an implausible goal, given who he was with – but someday, he just might. Pleasure built between them, layer by layer, with Raleigh telling Chuck just how incredible it all felt. Unable to resist, Chuck gave in to the urge to stroke Raleigh’s cock just to feel him tighten that much more. Though it was hard to hold off, Chuck waited until Raleigh was close before he gave into his own need for release, knowing that would trigger Raleigh. 

Breathing out, Chuck leaned over Raleigh carefully and kissed him. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Raleigh returned the kiss softly before saying, “Now, please get up so we can get cleaned up. My stomach thinks I forgot it.” 

“Whatever happened to my romantic American guy?” Chuck mock-complained as he got up and dealt with the condom.

“Your romantic American guy? What, are we in a soap opera?” Raleigh shot back.

Chuck laughed. “No, but didn’t you used to want to cuddle after sex?”

Raleigh stole a kiss. “Yeah, when I’m not starving,” he said as he headed towards the bathroom. “Get with the program: a quick shower, followed by food, then more sex, and we’ll cuddle some before I shift back into a wolf. I talked to Dr. Chandel and she thinks that if I spend some time sleeping as a wolf like Yancy does, it’ll be easier for my body, long-term, even if nothing else heals.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Chuck agreed, following Raleigh into the bathroom. “Are you going to try to shift more in general, then?”

“Yancy said he shifted every night at first, mainly because he didn’t have much else to do. I’m thinking if I spend a few hours shifted during the daytime, then I might not have to do it so much at night.”

“How are you going to manage work, then?”

Raleigh frowned. “Hadn’t thought that far. Hmm.” He turned on the water to the shower and quickly cleaned himself before stepping out and allowing Chuck to have his turn, since they’d long ago figured out that the shower only fit two people under an extreme contortionist configuration. “Guess I’ll have to think about that some more.”

“Look, if you should be in wolf form while you’re sleeping, I’ll deal,” Chuck assured him. “Better that your body learns what shape it should be than for you to be stuck in wolf form for three days straight or some shit like that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Raleigh acquiesced. “I just…” He sighed as he started to dry off. “Feel like I’m having to learn how my body works all over again. It’s weird and uncomfortable.” 

“I bet,” Chuck said, and showered quickly so they could get dressed and eat dinner.


	19. Chapter 19

The war council, as Chuck called it in his head, was held in his father’s office on Friday. Officially, the marshal was in a private conference and no calls would be forwarded to him. In keeping with his agreement with his boyfriend, Chuck let Raleigh know that he, Herc, Richie, and Duncan were planning on how to handle the headhunter, but did not identify any other details. That allowed Raleigh to concentrate on managing the jaeger operations so that the PPDC’s business continued to run without visible interruption. Yancy, who’d been released from Medical that morning, was tasked with accompanying his brother. He was given VIP clearance to see the new jaegers and meet with the jaeger pilots. Later in the afternoon, Yancy would sit in on LOCCENT, just like any other VIP, and watch the teams put the jaegers through their paces. Everyone understood that this was an attempt to make sure the Beckets and the jaeger pilots were accounted for at all times, and that they did not leave the relative security of the premises.

Post-Operation Pitfall, Herc had relocated the marshal’s office from Stacker’s quarters. The new office was closer to the lobby and furnished so that it was more like a typical high-level corporate executive’s office. Among other items, it was equipped with a conference table capable of seating eight. Chuck slid into the chair to his father’s left. Richie sat across from him. Duncan took the seat next to Chuck; Connor sat next to Richie. 

“What do we know?” Herc asked as soon as the door was shut. 

“I asked Dylan who would be interested in using plasma rifles against us,” Richie said. He then detailed what Dylan had told him, adding, “I also got a very interesting call from Carl Robinson, who told me to tell Duncan and Yancy that they still owe him for not freaking out when Yancy shifted in his van.”

Duncan winced. “I should’ve timed that one better.”

Connor chuckled, the sound sharp and staccato. “Wondered where he was during the war.”

“Helping Cory Raines redistribute supplies,” Duncan said. “Given he’s one of Matthew’s students, I presume he’s the hacker Matthew contacted? He was learning cybersecurity, the last I knew. Wanted to know how to make himself disappear, which is hard to do if you look like he does and made the history books as a baseball pitcher.”

Herc nodded in understanding. “So what did he have to say?”

“He corroborated what Dylan said about Kevin Crump. He also said that if we’re going to draw Kevin out, it’s going to take some doing because he doesn’t leave his little fortress without security. Carl also said that this Crump believes that guns are the only way to eliminate his enemies, and that the right headshot is better than a sword any day of the week.”

“So we send him a challenge,” Chuck said. “I mean, that’s how it’s done, right?” 

“He’d shit in his pants if either one of you challenged him,” Richie noted, gesturing to Connor and Duncan.

“Maybe,” Connor said. “So you’ll do it, young Hansen.”

“Me?” Chuck said, incredulous. “Why me? I’m not into challenges…oh, fuck. I’m bait.” 

“You are not risking my son for this,” Herc interjected immediately.

“Connor, Chuck’s good, but he’s only taken one head,” Richie countered, and watched the elder Highlander pause at that. “If you want bait, use me. At least I have a better shot at winning.” He studied Connor a moment. “Unless there’s some reason we need to do a bait and switch?”

Duncan looked alarmed. “Connor? Is this about the phone call you had before we left the hotel?” 

“Aye,” Connor said reluctantly. “Rachel is ill.”

Duncan frowned and looked worried. “What happened to her?” 

“Rachel is your wife?” Herc guessed.

“My daughter,” Connor admitted. “Duncan and I rescued her from Nazis.”

Herc did the calculations as Chuck tried to remember his scant history lessons; a thorough education had taken a huge backseat to his need to know just enough to pass his high school equivalency test. Nazis meant…World War II, Chuck thought, which was –

His father beat him to the math. “That would put her in her nineties at the youngest. She’s in the hospital, I take it?” Herc asked.

Connor nodded. “Heart attack, possible stroke.”

“Then go,” Herc ordered. “Family matters take precedence, and between Duncan, Richie, me, and my son, we can handle this. I can arrange a charter flight for you.”

Connor hesitated. “Let me at least suggest how you might want to set up this challenge before you send me off.”

Herc nodded, and Connor began to speak. 

* * *

At the age of twenty-nine in 2009, Kevin Crump died as he’d lived: in a hail of gunfire for a gang-related deal gone sour. Chan Liang, a 150-year-old Chinese exporter who was known to be a decent, upstanding, generally peaceable immortal, brought Kevin to Hong Kong, hoping that the change in locale would offer him a chance at a better future. Kevin, however, didn’t buy into the ‘just live a good life’ mantra his teacher spouted. Like many headhunters, Kevin killed his first teacher as his first kill. He spent the next eighteen years growing his business as a gunrunner specializing in military arms, levering an old connection with a high school buddy who’d gone into the Army. He also started making small inroads in the immortal population, tentatively at first, but then more aggressively as time progressed and the Kaiju War raged.

He was also incredibly vain. He had dark black, naturally wavy hair, cut into a fashionable style. He had a chiseled face and brown eyes, and stood five feet eight inches tall. Workouts had given his model-trim-build an equally fashion-model-appropriate musculature. Much to his dismay, he’d learned that immortality didn’t completely fix his vision: he still needed glasses, and it didn’t fix his apparent inability to tan. He’d heard a rumor, though, that if he gained enough Quickenings, he might be able to fix that. So far, though, that hadn’t happened yet, but if the grapevine was true and the Highlander was in town, then maybe, just maybe, he’d stop needing the damn contacts to see.

Rumor was that the Highlander knew magic and could control demons. Kevin wasn’t too sure about that last part and he believed that magic was nothing more than cheap parlor tricks, but he understood the value of a reputation like that. To be the one to kill the Highlander, well. Might be worth something – especially since the Highlander could be tied to so many other people. How many levers could he trigger with one kill? Kevin smiled wolfishly. If the Highlander was as old as some claimed, then that would be many. He decided he liked that notion. Then he frowned as he realized he had no idea how to contact the man – or were there two? He had a momentary pang of regret for being too quick to kill his teacher; that had been a lost opportunity for more information and connections. So how to find the best target in the immortal universe? Surely, someone would know, and if anyone seemed like a good candidate for knowing, a recently rediscovered jaeger pilot seemed like a good place to start.

* * *

“Come on, Rals, it’s Friday night,” Yancy pleaded. “Don’t tell me Chuck doesn’t let you out to go to clubs. I need to get out and celebrate that I’m well, and I haven’t seen the inside of a club in, well, years.” He felt caged after two weeks of being in Medical; the meet and greets of the day had only fueled his need to get out, especially after Shawn had talked about how they usually went out to a club on Friday or Saturday nights if they weren’t working.

Raleigh shot his brother a look. “It’s not Chuck who has a say; it’s Security. There are only a handful of clubs in the city that can handle the extra attention one of us will bring. Plus, I heard Chuck saying that since you did that press conference, there’ll be the paparazzi and likely some crazy stalker.”

Yancy looked startled. “So it’s like it was. And there’s always been some crazy stalker and the paparazzi. I’m not going to hide anymore; I did that for seven years. How are things any different now?”

Raleigh nodded. “Difference now is that Security’s tolerance for bad behavior from any of us is lower and they’re quicker to react.”

Yancy considered this as they made their way to the guest room he’d been assigned. “Because of Scott?”

“And a few other people, but Scott was the start,” Raleigh agreed as they turned the corridor to where the guest rooms were. Yancy had been given the room that was second on the right-hand-side of the corridor, and he punched in the key code he’d been given to open the door.

Opening the door revealed that the room contained a queen-size bed and an ensuite bathroom, with the bathroom door immediately on the right as they walked in and the closet opposite. The bed had been made with standard-issue PPDC linens; the bathroom had been stocked with toiletries and towels. A mini-fridge, a phone clearly labeled with ‘for outside calls, please dial zero for the operator first,’ a microwave, a coffeemaker, and a wall-mounted TV comprised the room’s amenities. Yancy wasted no time dumping his bag on the floor closest to the bathroom.

“I’m guessing you don’t know what happened to him,” Yancy stated.

Raleigh said nothing.

“Or you can’t tell me,” Yancy translated the silence. “Got it. Um, so how do we arrange to go out, then?”

“Let me call Security,” Raleigh told him, and picked up the phone.

“Security, this is Officer Daniel Wan, how many I help you?”

“Hi, Daniel, this is Raleigh. Yancy and I want to go clubbing tonight and we’ll probably have Chuck and Mako with us. Is there somewhere we can go?”

“Hold please,” Daniel said. After about a five-minute wait, he came back on the line. “We can take you to Z Club or Find. Z Club’s the Asian pop and techno bar and Find’s the American-style dance club. Which would you prefer?”

“Find,” Raleigh decided. “The bartenders are less likely to overpour the drinks and the DJs aren’t so in love with K-pop.”

“If you can be ready in forty-five minutes, Officer Samurakami will meet you in the motorpool. Shall I send the invitations to Senior Ranger Hansen and Ranger Mori?”

“Please; that’ll save me a trip to find them.”

“Done,” Daniel said after a pause. “Enjoy your evening.” Not expecting a reply, he disconnected the line.

“Any suggestions on what to wear?” Yancy asked. “All I have are jeans and t-shirts.”

Raleigh studied his brother. “I think you and I are the same size still. Grab anything you need and we’ll head over to my room.”

Yancy rummaged through his backpack, finding his newly issued PPDC identification card, which identified him as a retired jaeger pilot and would suffice for basic age identification. He stuffed it into a pocket before saying, “Lead the way.”

Raleigh led him to his room, which turned out to be on the opposite side of the Shatterdome from where Yancy’s room was. Yancy realized he’d never known that the guest rooms were so far removed from the rest of the complex, but it made sense, since the jaeger pilots had been known to blow off steam in creative ways that were not necessarily good for public consumption. When Raleigh opened the door to his room, he was surprised at the amount of customization that had been done to the room.

“This is not a standard-issue room, not like I remember,” Yancy noted.

Raleigh grinned. “No. Herc let us make changes. Said if we were going to be making this our permanent homes, then we ought to make it like we’d make our homes. I made the bed with Richie’s help.”

Yancy whistled softly. “Nice. Wait, when did you learn how to weld?” 

“When I worked the Wall of Life,” Raleigh said, his tone daring his brother to comment. “Welders got paid more, especially if you could work top of the Wall.”

Yancy studied his brother and decided he was better off leaving that alone. “So what were you thinking I should wear?”

Raleigh pulled out a dress shirt in a blue so dark it looked black. “How about this and the jeans you’re wearing?”

“Works for me.” Yancy tried on the shirt. It was a loose fit, but not so loose that it looked bad. Trying it on reinforced his impression that his brother had bulked up from what Yancy remembered. “What do you think?”

“You’ll do,” Raleigh said as he traded the gray t-shirt he’d been wearing for a dress shirt in a soft green.

Without knocking, Chuck entered the room then. He kissed Raleigh in greeting before saying, “Mako will meet us at the club. She and Hu are having dinner.” To Yancy, he said, “Don’t know if Raleigh told you, but stick close to us if you don’t speak Mandarin or Cantonese.”

“Wasn’t on my ‘things to learn’ list,” Yancy admitted ruefully. “Does anyone in the club speak English?”

“Most of the servers do, but you’ll get better service if –” Chuck started to say.

“– you don’t sound like a tourist,” Yancy finished. “Got it.”

Chuck didn’t bother changing out of the olive green Striker Eureka t-shirt he was wearing. He took out a black sport coat out of the closet, surprising Yancy.

“I guess that means you live here too?” Yancy asked.

Chuck shot him a challenging look as he shrugged on the coat. “Got a problem with it?”

“No,” Yancy replied evenly. “Just adding it to the list of things I didn’t know about and didn’t think about asking.” He paused. “So why don’t you guys move out of the Shatterdome and into your own place? Or is that not an option?”

Chuck and Raleigh exchanged looks. “We’ve talked about it,” Raleigh said carefully. “But I get nightmares and insomnia sometimes and here at least, nobody says anything if I’m trying to walk it off in my underwear.”

Yancy’s breath caught. Determinedly, he looked at his brother. “All the more reason for us to go out tonight and have some fun, then.”

“Here, you’ll want this, too,” Chuck said gruffly, handing over a classic black leather jacket. “It’s waterproof. Supposed to rain tonight.”

While Yancy busied himself with the jacket, he saw his brother put on a similar jacket in a camel-brown color. Yancy wasn’t surprised to see Chuck grab a Striker Eureka-branded jacket; from the way it hung from his hand, Yancy suspected it had a hidden sword sheath.

Raleigh leaned in and kissed Chuck before turning to Yancy. “Ready, bro?”

“Ready,” Yancy said.

Chuck and Raleigh didn’t hold hands, Yancy noticed as he trailed after them, but they walked close together.

“You don’t have to walk behind us,” Chuck said, stopping abruptly. “Not right now anyway; hallway’s wide enough.”

“You going to stop being a nice guy as soon as we step out of the car?” Yancy asked dryly as he fell in step beside Raleigh.

Chuck shot him a grin. “No. I’m only an asshole on TV, haven’t you figured that out yet?”

Yancy shook his head, declining to comment. Instinct told him it was going to be an interesting evening. It got even more so when the security accompanying them handed him a small phone.

“This is for emergency calls only,” he was advised. “If you get lost, wander off, wake up somewhere else, press the call button and PPDC Security will locate you.”

“Expecting trouble?” Yancy asked, alarmed.

The security officer, whose nametag identified her as ‘Goddard’, smiled. “Better safe than sorry, especially since we lost you for seven years.”

“Ah, right,” Yancy agreed.

“Just stay with your brother and Senior Ranger Hansen and you’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“I’ll take care of them, Poppy,” Chuck told her, sounding vaguely insulted.

“I know you will,” she said, patting Chuck’s arm. “But you don’t want your father to worry.”

“Of course not,” Chuck said, affronted. “Don’t want him storming about.”

“Are the kaiju cultists still around?” Yancy wondered.

“Yeah, but nothing like they were,” Raleigh told him. “Some big TV news did an exposé on them in cooperation with Interpol and showed that the big leaders had some unsavory ties to criminal activities, including child prostitution and human trafficking. Interpol arrested several hundred people in the wake of that.”

“I see,” Yancy said as he pocketed the tiny phone, which was no bigger than the palm of his hand. “Well, hopefully, I won’t need to use this. I haven’t been drinking much. Duncan had a couple of bottles of scotch, but the stuff he had was like drinking grass.”

“Hey, I thought you liked scotch,” Raleigh said.

“Not Glenfiddich, apparently. The stuff he had was ancient, too.” Yancy wrinkled his nose. “I’m not Scottish enough to appreciate it. Still like American whiskey better.”

“Thank God for that,” Raleigh said, grinning. He turned to Poppy. “Anything else we need before we exit this car?”

“No, you’re good,” she declared. “Have fun.”


	20. Chapter 20

The club was already in full swing by the time they arrived. A line into the club had formed, but the two front-door bouncers had been forewarned of their arrival and waved them in without much fanfare beyond verifying their IDs. Familiar with the club, Chuck and Raleigh led the way to the second floor VIP area, where another bouncer verified their IDs again before allowing them into the area. Mako had already claimed a table large enough to seat all of them. One corner of the VIP area had its own dance floor. Yancy remembered visiting places like these back when he’d been a jaeger pilot. As eager as he’d been to get out, he’d been half-afraid that where they were going was going to be some foreign dive where he had to rely solely on his brother and Chuck to get him drinks.

“Where’s Hu?” Chuck asked after greeting Mako.

“He went home,” Mako said, looking disappointed. “He stood too long.”

Yancy looked at her. “Stood too long?”

“Hu Wei barely survived the destruction of his jaeger,” Mako explained. “He is determined to walk again, and he keeps pushing himself to get there.”

“Ah, right, I met him earlier today,” Yancy said. He’d been surprised to learn that one of the Weis had survived the explosion of their jaeger; the news he’d read of the battle prior to Operation Pitfall had made mention of the destruction of Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha. He’d assumed that meant no survivors. He eyed Mako a moment. “You two dating, or is that too personal to ask?”

Mako smiled. “We are friends.”

Yancy didn’t know her well enough to judge whether that constituted an evasion or not. From the look on Chuck’s and Raleigh’s faces, though, Yancy guessed it was.

“Uh huh, Mako,” Chuck drawled sarcastically. “That sounds awfully familiar.”

Mako shrugged. “It remains to be seen whether he and I follow the same route as you did,” she acknowledged. “He is still grieving for his brothers.” She looked at Yancy. “Did you want to dance?”

“Thought you’d never ask. You guys gonna be couch potatoes for a while or you dancing?”

Chuck looked at Raleigh and grinned. “Want to show ‘em how it’s done?”

Raleigh returned the grin. “Sure,” he said, and led the way to the dance floor.

In another part of the club, one of the two front-door bouncers was making a phone call. “Mr. Crump, you wanted to be alerted when Yancy Becket arrived? Well, he’s here with his brother and Ranger Hansen. Yes, sir, thank you.” The bouncer disconnected the call, thinking only of the extra money he’d been paid to make it and believing the story he’d been told about a reporter for TMZ, and went about his business. 

* * *

Two hours later, Yancy was drenched with sweat and having a great time. He’d quickly discovered that Mako was a very good dancer, as were his brother and Chuck. The VIP crowd looked to be the usual assortment of the rich and beautiful. After spending so much time with a very limited number of people, it was almost overwhelming to be in such close quarters with so many strangers. He was never more than an arm’s length away from his brother or Chuck or Mako, though. It took him a while to realize they were keeping him in sight.

Yancy didn’t mind, though. He remembered spending time in clubs like this one, chasing shots of whiskey with beer and flirting with the women. He wasn’t ready yet to flirt with anyone with any real intent, but he did enjoy the relative anonymity of the dance floor, where the expectations were less fraught. At one point, he found himself dancing with a willowy Chinese woman with very long hair; at another, he was dancing with Chuck, laughing at the way the other man was comparing his skill with Raleigh’s. He took a break from dancing to grab another drink with Chuck’s assistance. Sitting at the table they’d grabbed, Yancy asked Chuck, “Where’s Mako and Raleigh?”

“Mako went home,” Chuck told him. “She usually gets up early so she and Hu can work out. Your brother’s in the bathroom. Should be back shortly.”

“Ah, okay.”

Yancy finished his drink a few minutes later. Figuring his brother had headed back out to the dance floor, Yancy headed there and danced for a few songs before Chuck pulled on his forearm.

“We need to leave,” Chuck hissed in his ear. “Trouble.”

“Where’s my brother?” Yancy demanded.

“Missing,” Chuck growled. “Get your ass moving; there’s another immortal here.”

“But we need to find –”

“Yes, but I need you to cooperate,” Chuck snapped. “I need to get you safe. Got that?”

Yancy stared at him. “Would my brother let you not find him?”

“Security’s on it,” Chuck assured him. “We need to get you out of here before someone gets any bright ideas.”

Yancy acquiesced at that and let Chuck hustle him out of the club and to the PPDC towncar. He didn’t like the notion of letting someone else find his brother, but he knew he had no concept of the city’s geography and a million crazy ideas on who might want his brother. Chafing a bit at the constraints and starting to panic with worry, Yancy watched as Chuck verified the driver’s identity.

“Hey, Trevor, how was Paris?”

“Flatter than flat,” Trevor replied, “but we’re going to have a bumper crop of tofu this year.”

Yancy frowned. Paris? Flat and dusty? Tofu? Oh, right, soybeans. It took him another minute to remember that there were a number of American towns named after the famous French city. “You an American farm boy?” he asked the driver as he started to buckle his seatbelt.

Trevor grinned. “No,” he answered. “Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario. I’m a city boy. We’ll get your brother back, don’t worry.”

Yancy glanced at Chuck, who looked grim, and bit back the half-formed comment he was about to make. Stating the obvious wasn’t going to help anything, and he didn’t think Chuck would appreciate him asking why he wasn’t going out and chasing after the other immortal.

As if sensing his thoughts, Chuck looked at him. “My job right now is to make sure you stay safe. I’m pissed they took advantage of a fucking basic need to take Raleigh, but I know your brother’s a fighter.”

Yancy took a small measure of comfort with that, but it wasn’t enough. Why had he suggested a night out? He was an idiot. Raleigh really had been better off without him, he berated himself.

“And if you’re thinking this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t here,” Chuck added dryly, “quit.”

“What? But it was my idea,” Yancy protested.

“And next week it would’ve been Raleigh’s, or mine, or Mako’s,” Chuck said knowingly. “We can’t live in a glass bubble forever.”

 _And I’ve been living in one_ , Yancy thought. _Please, bro, be alright._

* * *

In a warehouse not far from the club, Richie was relieving his misspent youth, and remembering precisely why he wasn’t a thief anymore. He’d forgotten just what it took to breathe past the adrenaline surge and the nerves. _Come on,_ he told himself, _and remember what Cory and Amanda told you about this shit. It’s not breaking in that’s the hardest part. It’s getting out._

Finally, the electronic lock defeater device he was using beeped softly. “Sir, the security cameras have been rerouted,” the voice in his comm said.

“Thank you,” Richie said, and opened the door to the warehouse.

He was following Connor’s plan: get Kevin Crump’s attention. What better way than to blow up his main warehouse?

Richie was not alone. A small squad of PPDC security accompanied him; they would be responsible for laying the charges. Everything was going well until Richie sensed an immortal drawing near, right at the edge of his sensing range. _What the fuck was Crump doing coming back to check on his inventory at midnight?_ _Did I trigger a silent alarm? Oh, fuck. My luck, I probably did._ He hit his comm button. “Target is coming back. Repeat, he’s coming back.”

“Roger that. We’ve set the charges and will withdraw to a safe distance.”

Richie nodded grimly. The security team didn’t know about immortals, but they had been warned that the target was extremely dangerous. “Confirm when you are five minutes out.”

Moving quickly, Richie did a quick visual check of the warehouse’s contents. Because Connor had not dared to assume a gunrunner would only run guns, Richie had brought a small thermal camera. He used it now, conscious of the timer in his head. His early warning of other immortals was, at most, a fifteen-minute window, but it wasn’t a perfect system. Thanks to the Quickenings he’d taken and guidance from Connor, Richie knew how to play with his Quickening and could make it feel to another immortal like he was a rank newbie or hide another immortal under his own. He always figured that if he knew how to do these things, another immortal could as well.

The warehouse was, thankfully, not as large as Richie had feared, but it still took Richie ten precious minutes to examine the perimeter. The crates of ammunition were stacked in such a way that there was a clear path from the front of the warehouse to the back, but he could see that the exterior walls were thin. A bunch of fans were scattered about the floor, trying to compensate for the lack of air circulation. Richie wasn’t a weapons expert, but he knew enough about them to know that this was probably already a powder keg.

He’d just determined that the building was empty of other people and was getting ready to leave when he heard the unmistakable crunch of tires against gravel. There was only one door out that was closest to his position, and the bombs would go off in less than five minutes.

Richie took a deep breath and walked out to face his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 79 deg F in my house and 84 outside. I'm going to go drink water and get this sticky laptop off my lap.
> 
> In case you're wondering: where is Duncan and Herc? Just wait.... ;-)


	21. Chapter 21

Raleigh had no idea where he was, but he knew that he’d been grabbed and was currently traveling in a car, likely the trunk, given how crammed he was into the space and the smell. His arms were tied behind his back. Coughing, he realized he’d been given some kind of knockout gas, grabbed from behind as he’d stood at the urinal. The goons hadn’t even bothered to zip him up, and that gave him an idea.

If he just shifted his arms, could he break – Raleigh grinned as he heard the rope snap. That gave him back the use of his arms, but he was still in a moving car. He zipped himself up and waited. He debated whether shifting to a wolf would be a good idea.

_If I was a guy who kidnapped other guys, would I want to see a wolf in the trunk or would it make me think the guy I kidnapped could turn into one?_ he asked himself. _And more importantly, would I even fit in here as a wolf and what if these goons open the trunk while I’m shifting? That could be even more problematic. Nah, better if I just stay me and don’t do what my brother would do. To hear him tell it, he’s spent most of the last seven years as a wolf. I can’t say I wouldn’t have if I’d known._

He swore as the car hit a pothole and tossed him around. _If this keeps up, I’m going to say fuck it and shift. One more good bump like that and I’m going to wind up with a concussion. Wonder if I can still get a concussion if I’m a wolf? Or does it heal instantly? Damn it, I can hear myself rambling and it’s not good. I’ll drive myself crazy by trying to figure out shit I don’t need to figure out. Focus, Raleigh, see if you can figure out where you are or if the damn trunk has a child safety release._

The road noise made it impossible for him to tell. As far as Raleigh could feel, the trunk wasn’t equipped with a safety release, which likely made it a Chinese manufactured vehicle that had no such safety considerations. He swore and tried to come up with a plan for what he’d do when the car stopped moving. Panic, however, was making it difficult to think. He was starting to realize he didn’t like being in a closed space and in the dark. He spent precious minutes just trying to breathe and be calm.

Finally, the car stopped. He heard the two goons talking with a third person who sounded as though he spoke Cantonese with an American accent. From the dialogue, Raleigh deduced that the goons were local Chinese, hired to grab someone matching Yancy’s description. They opened the trunk and hauled him out, and started arguing with each other over who was supposed to have tied a knot in the rope. They each kept a hand on his arms and pulled him as they argued. The security lights on the guest parking area were glaring and Raleigh closed his eyes briefly to try and adjust. The bumpy car ride had made him slightly dizzy and the constant tug-and-pull wasn’t helping. He needed a moment to get his bearings and then he’d do something about the two idiots.

As he opened his eyes, he saw a Caucasian man in a tuxedo. The guy looked like he’d stepped straight off the set of some wedding advertisement photo shoot with his slicked back hair and model-perfect looks. His face was red with anger.

“You fucking idiots,” the Caucasian man swore. “You grabbed the wrong Becket.” The man pulled out a semiautomatic pistol and shot the first man twice at point-blank range, killing him instantly. The second man tried desperately to run, but didn’t get far. He too was shot, four rounds going into his back until he fell and lay dying in the gravel.

Stunned, his ears ringing from the sudden gunfire, Raleigh pulled free of the dying man and glared at the stranger. “What the hell?” he demanded.

“You have two minutes to tell me where to find the Highlander.”

Raleigh stared at him and considered his options. From talking with Yancy, he knew that the MacLeods were known as the Highlanders among immortal kind. Raleigh decided to play dumb, figuring if the stranger didn’t know there were two Highlanders, he wasn’t going to enlighten him. “Who?”

Before the stranger could respond, the door behind him opened. Raleigh couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the redheaded, rangy man. His eyes widened as he realized Richie was dressed in a black leather jacket, a pair of dark blue jeans, and black sneakers.

The stranger whirled and aimed the gun but didn’t fire. Narrowing his eyes, he demanded, “Who are you?”

“Richie Ryan.” Richie offered a charming smile. “Look, Mr. Crump – I assume you are Kevin Crump?”

The stranger nodded, and Raleigh started to edge away from the scene.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Richie said, smiling, hands up in the air. “I just got paid to take a look around and see what you had, no big deal, right? I’ll just be on my way.”

“Who paid you?” Kevin demanded.

Raleigh felt a hand tug on his arm, distracting him from the conversation. He looked over his shoulder to see Herc. Herc was dressed in a night camouflage uniform. A black cap concealed his red hair. A military web belt, strapped across his chest, glinted with assorted tools and at least two grenades. Herc held up a finger to his mouth to indicate silence, then indicated that Raleigh should move with him. Raleigh wanted to get the hell out of this insanity, so he didn’t hesitate to follow.

Raleigh winced as the gravel made sounds under his feet, but Herc didn’t let him focus too much on it, urging him into a run towards a military-issue truck as soon as they’d cleared the car that had been Raleigh’s transportation to the site. He smelled, more than saw, Herc toss a smoke grenade to cover their tracks.

Assisted by one of the men on the truck, Herc helped Raleigh into the rear of the covered truck. From the light of someone’s red-colored flashlight, Raleigh saw as he sat down that the truck was full of a small squad of PPDC security as well as a line of boxes, stacked high. He couldn’t read what the markings on the boxes were; it was too dark.

“Alpha Leader to Redhead, we have the lost birdie and the shipment. We are headed out. All detonators are set to fire on your command,” one of the men said, sounding like he was talking into a headset.

“Let’s get going then,” Herc ordered, and someone rapped on the partition separating the cab of the truck. The truck eased into gear; from the motion, Raleigh suspected they were rolling in neutral rather than start the engine.

“How did you find me?”

“Chuck stuck a GPS tracker in your jacket and in your brother’s. He thought you guys might want to go out.”

Raleigh’s eyes widened. “You planned this?” he demanded.

“Not the part where you got kidnapped,” Herc snapped, annoyed. “We were going after Kevin Crump tonight. We just didn’t think he’d consider you as a viable option, but we didn’t want to assume anyone else wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” Raleigh said, realizing it made sense. He had a bad habit of misplacing his phone, rendering it useless for tracking.

“What about Richie?” Raleigh asked. “And one of the goons that grabbed me – I don’t know if he’s still alive.”

Herc grinned fiendishly. “Richie has backup: Duncan MacLeod.” His smile vanished as he added more soberly, “As for the one who might still be alive – I saw the shots. He’d need magic or a miracle to survive those.”

“No way to rescue him? He made a stupid mistake. They wanted Yancy.”

“If Richie can, he will,” Herc said tactfully.

Raleigh understood that was a very slim chance scenario and he bowed his head to say a silent prayer. He didn’t wish the goons who’d kidnapped him so much ill will that he’d wanted them dead; he’d just wanted them to stop being useless idiots. “Where are Yancy and Chuck? And did Mako and Hu get home safe?”

“Yancy is with Chuck; they should be at the ‘dome by now. Mako and Hu got home safe; they’re all worried about you.” Herc patted his shoulder. “You all right? No harm done?”

“Forearms and wrists hurt a bit. Broke free of the ropes by shifting just my arms. Got bounced around when I was in the trunk, too.”

“We’ll get Grace to check you out. Should be there in twenty minutes.”

“Aren’t you worried about Richie with Duncan?” Raleigh asked. “I heard about what happened between them.”

Herc looked grim. “Richie assured me he’d be all right, and he has a comm unit in his ear. We also positioned a sniper on one of the roofs just in case, but he’s only allowed to fire if Richie’s in danger.”

“What if it’s too late then?”

“Then we go to Plan B. Let’s not borrow trouble, though. I wouldn’t be here if Richie didn’t believe he would be okay.” Herc took a breath, making Raleigh realize he wasn’t as calm as he was trying to be.

Raleigh decided he wasn’t going to add to Herc’s stress and stayed quiet for the remainder of the trip.

* * *

Richie watched his lover get Raleigh clear of the scene as he realized Kevin was so laser-focused on him that he hadn’t heard them leave, nor had he quite noticed the smoke screen Herc had set up. “Who hired me?” Richie asked, stalling until he felt, then saw, Duncan approach from behind Kevin. Duncan had his katana out at the ready, and he nodded acknowledgement to Richie. “Why do you want to know? Gonna pay me? Because I don’t think you can afford me.”

As Richie spoke, he heard a male voice say in his in-ear comm, “Alpha Leader to Redhead, we have the lost birdie and the shipment. We are headed out. All detonators are set to fire on your command.”

“Answer me,” Kevin ordered. “What are you stalling for?”

“Oh, nothing important,” Richie replied, relief washing through him as he heard the confirmations that he wanted to hear. “Just the other Highlander.”

“What?” Kevin fired his gun, shooting Richie, who swore at the impact, but did not fall. “What the fuck?” Kevin said again, and shot twice more. “Why aren’t you dying?”

“It’s called a bulletproof vest,” Duncan called out, gaining Kevin’s attention. “Invented in 1538, or do you not study history?”

“Who are you?” Kevin demanded, irritated. He fired his gun, but the gun jammed, and he threw the weapon aside in frustration when he couldn’t clear the jam fast enough.

“As Richie said, I’m the other Highlander. Same clan, different vintage. My name is Duncan MacLeod. If you’re looking for my cousin... sorry, but he couldn’t make it. You’ll just have to settle for me.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said, and tried to run into the building, only to be stopped by Richie’s sword, pressed flat against his chest.

“Don’t think so, buddy,” Richie countered. “You wanted to challenge the Highlander. He’s here. Or would you rather fight me?”

“You’re nobody,” Kevin sneered. “I could take your head.”

“Sorry, not today,” Richie said, and let out his full Quickening.

Kevin stared. Realization dawned on his face that he was not, as he’d assumed, facing a weaker, younger, probable newbie immortal. “You…you…who the fuck are you?” He took a step back, suddenly unsure and off-balance.

“Oh, just a guy who learned from both Highlanders,” Richie said casually. “I hate cheaters, and since you appear to want some more, shall we say, modern help –” Still keeping his sword out, he reached with his left hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small remote. Depressing the button caused the warehouse to explode, tossing all three men to the ground from the shockwave.

Tucking his sword underneath him, Richie rolled with the force of the explosion and came up standing, sword at the ready. While Kevin had been distracted by what Richie was saying, Duncan had taken cover behind the car; he, too, was able to recover and stepped quickly towards where he anticipated Kevin to be, his katana in his right hand.

A moment later, Kevin staggered to his feet, screaming obscenities. “I’m going to kill you both!”

“You’re welcome to try,” Duncan invited. “Draw your sword and fight.”

Kevin looked enraged, but he did draw a sword. Richie thought it looked a lot like a _dao_ , or was a modern interpretation of one, with a moderately curved, single-edged blade. Not wanting to be accidentally targeted, Richie stepped out of the fight area and put his sword away, trusting that Duncan had the fight. He waited until he heard Duncan engage before checking on the two fallen men, making sure they were both beyond help and also checking for any hidden guns, in case Kevin got any ideas.

When Richie looked up again at the fight, he saw that Duncan had driven Kevin further down the gravel driveway. Kevin was managing to wield his sword with some skill, but he was losing and he knew it. It was only making him madder and causing him to swing more wildly. He was not, Richie saw, that good of a sword fighter; whatever he’d learned was being erratically applied. Anger seemed to drive his actions more than anything else.

“What? Missing something? A gun perhaps?” Duncan asked, looking coldly amused.

“Fuck you,” Kevin snarled, and attacked. With a lucky strike, he managed to slice at Duncan’s right arm, drawing blood. Stupidly, Kevin did not take advantage of the distraction to go for the kill swing. Instead, he fumbled for his hideout gun and tried to shoot, but the shot went wild in his haste.

“Nice try,” Duncan told him. Normally right-handed, Duncan switched hands and took Kevin’s head with a single, decisive stroke. The warehouse burned in the background as the angry Quickening hit Duncan, driving him to his knees in the gravel. Richie winced in sympathy, but waited until the lightning was gone before he approached his former teacher. He controlled the sudden flash of fear that burned through him as he remembered another day, another time, when he’d been wrong to assume his teacher got through every Quickening unscathed.

“You okay?” Richie asked warily, stopping just short of lunging distance, just to be on the safe side.

In his ear, he heard the PPDC sniper say, “Waiting for confirmation.”

“Nothing that a couple shots of scotch won’t fix,” Duncan assured him as he slowly rose to his feet and wiped gravel off his knees and legs. “He was an idiot.”

“I kind of got that impression. And no offense, Mac, but I need to be sure he’s not the kind of idiot who’d take you over.”

“He’d have to know how to use a Quickening for that, and he didn’t,” Duncan said. “He was no _hyoka_.”

“Humor me anyway. What was Tessa wearing the day we got trapped in a courtroom?”

“An orange top and a brown skirt,” Duncan said. “I told her she looked like a pumpkin. She didn’t like that description.”

As a test, Richie had deliberately picked one of the more esoteric memories from his relationship with Duncan: a trip with Duncan’s longtime girlfriend to the courthouse to clear Richie’s traffic tickets, which had resulted in them having their own _Die Hard_ experience. Experience had taught Richie that those kinds of memories were harder to access when one took a Quickening, especially in the minutes immediately following the win. “Yeah, I remember that. She never wore it again, though.”

Duncan nodded, his mouth tight with old grief. He looked around at the scene. “I take it Herc got Raleigh out of here?”

“Yeah, so we’re the cleanup crew. We’re on our own for transportation back.”

“Can you hotwire that car?”

Richie half-smiled and held up the key fob he’d found. “No need.”

In his ear, he heard the sniper say, “Standing down. Will follow on motorcycle when you’re ready to depart.”

Richie dug into his pocket and pulled out gloves so they could move Kevin’s body into the trunk for disposal. In accordance with their previously agreed-upon plan, it would be burned as if they’d found a kaiju-blue-infected body, leaving little trace of Kevin’s existence. In companionable silence, Richie and Duncan cleared the scene before driving the car back to the Shatterdome.

Just before they exited the car, Duncan looked over at Richie, who was driving. “Thanks, Richie. If he’d run into that warehouse and the charges hadn’t been set, I’m sure he would’ve grabbed a plasma gun and taken my head.”

Richie glanced at him. He couldn’t find the words to say what that gratitude meant to him, so he settled for a tight, “You’re welcome.” Swallowing hard, he tried for a lighter tone. “Aren’t you the one who said I should plan before I fight?”

Duncan chuckled roughly at that. “So I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hyoka = in Highlander canon, someone with the ability to take the evil and anger of others into himself and render it impotent. 
> 
> "Bad Day in Building A" was one of the worst episodes of the series, IMO.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that almost didn't happen, thanks to this week's heat wave. Dear weather: I left Florida for Washington state for a reason. You did not need to follow me up here, thank you kindly.
> 
> I hope you enjoy where this ends. To everyone who's been reading this and commenting and sending kudos - thanks! Stay cool and hydrated out there!
> 
> ETA: Edited to expand a few things my heat-addled brain overlooked. :-)

“Trevor, where do they want us to go?” Chuck asked as the car pulled to a halt in the PPDC motorpool.

“To your rooms,” Trevor advised.

“We’re supposed to just go to sleep? My brother’s been kidnapped!” Yancy protested. “Chuck, why aren’t you going out there?”

“I’m not Richie,” Chuck shot back. “Or Duncan. I don’t know how to begin to find someone who’s been kidnapped. Come on; we can’t stay in this car.” Chuck’s tone was firm.

Yancy eyed him warily even as he followed him out of the car. “You talk to my brother like that?”

Chuck looked at him impatiently. “If need be,” he said shortly. “I know my limits, Yancy. I’m a jaeger pilot. So were you. You do anything in the last seven years to make you an expert on finding anyone?”

“No,” Yancy said sullenly. “But I feel like I should be doing something.”

Chuck led the way to a communal living room. “You could take a page out of your brother’s book: do pushups. I’m going to get my dog from Security. Don’t wander off.”

Shocked, Yancy stared at Chuck’s back as the other man started to leave the room. “I thought you loved Raleigh.”

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks and turned. His face was coldly furious as he drew close to Yancy. “I’ve been there for him when he’s woken up screaming your name. I’ve held him when he’s so convinced he’s you that he doesn’t remember falling in love with me. You do not get to judge how much I love Raleigh, even if you’re his brother and his first copilot.” Shaking with anger, Chuck drew a breath. “My father and Richie are out there right now with Duncan MacLeod, hunting down the immortal who probably took your brother. You want to fight about who has more to lose?”

Yancy stared at him. He’d gotten used to the gentle, affectionate, dryly sarcastic man behind the arrogant, self-righteous mask Chuck presented to the world. He was not prepared for this man, who looked one word away from a fight.

Chuck held the stare. “Now is not the time to find your balls, Yancy Becket. I don’t have the energy to go hunting for you too.” With that comment, he turned and walked away.

Unable to come up with a response to that, Yancy sank into the nearest couch. He’d miscalculated badly in his fear, but he didn’t know how to begin to fix it.

He hadn’t realized he’d even fallen asleep until Chuck shook him awake. “They’re back.”

“I’m sorry,” Yancy blurted. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Just don’t do it again. Now come on. The old man took Raleigh to Medical.”

* * *

Yancy didn’t care what he looked like as he hurried over to Medical, his speed only held back by Chuck’s insistence that he not run. Raleigh sat in one of the patient rooms with Dr. Chandel, getting examined. “Thank God you’re alright.”

Dr. Chandel flung out an arm, stopping Yancy’s forward rush. “Hold that thought. Your brother got a bit banged up.”

Surprised, Yancy stopped. “But –”

“I’m okay,” Raleigh cut him off. “Just a little bruised. My arms are sore and I got a little bounced around.” He looked at Dr. Chandel. “If I shift, I won’t need any patching up, right?”

Dr. Chandel sighed. “Make sure you shower before you shift and have Chuck put ice packs on your head and arms. Promise me you’ll come back and see me tomorrow.”

Raleigh eased off the examining table. “Yes, Doctor.”

Dr. Chandel looked to Chuck. “Please make sure he does.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once Raleigh was close, Yancy stepped aside to let Chuck kiss him. Suddenly unsure of his place, Yancy waited quietly. After indulging his lover and assuring him he was okay, Raleigh looked over at Yancy. “You gonna just stand there all night?”

Chuckling roughly, Yancy stepped forward and hugged his brother carefully. He could see that Raleigh’s arms were bruised and he had what looked to be a bump on his head. “I’m glad you’re safe,” Yancy said. Explanations of what happened could wait, he decided. Priority was making sure Raleigh shifted and started to heal.

* * *

An hour and a half had gone by since Herc and the team had left the warehouse grounds, and every worst-case scenario about the outcome of an immortal fight had gone through Herc’s head in the interim. He trusted Richie to be okay, but he couldn’t stop the worry. It was telling, Herc thought, that he could feel his son’s worries overlapping his and blending in their ghost Drift. He didn’t bother telling Chuck to relax, aware that it would only incite his son to fight.

As soon as Herc got word from the front gate security guard that a taxi carrying Richie and Duncan was being allowed through the visitor’s entrance, Herc went outside to greet them. Over the course of planning the attack on Crump, Herc had gotten the sense that both MacLeods were driven individuals who felt they had the experience and the knowledge to execute whatever they wanted, whether it be hunting immortals or living life. Herc respected the MacLeods’ opinions and input on the planning, but it didn’t change that he was still nervous about the outcome. Herc didn’t allow himself to relax until Richie stepped out of the taxi and kissed him.

“Hi,” Richie greeted, grinning. “Did you miss me?”

“Nah,” Herc replied, taking comfort in Richie’s attitude. If Richie were in danger, the greeting would’ve been much different. “Only every other minute or so. You okay?”

Richie smiled. “Yeah. I’m not the one who took a Quickening. Think we can spare a driver for Mac so he can get back to his hotel?

Duncan had hung back to allow Richie to greet Herc. “If it’s not too much trouble at this hour of the night,” Duncan said.

“No, but are you okay?”

“Crump was an ambitious idiot,” Duncan said bluntly. “Just enough brains to do his business but with no control over his anger. I’ll had worse, but I’ll feel better if I can get back to my hotel.”

Herc studied him, realizing that the other man looked tired, much like Herc would be in the same situation. He also, Herc noted, seemed just as resigned at the loss of life. That counted for a lot in Herc’s book. “Let me get someone to drive you back. Yancy will want to see you in the morning, I’m sure.”

Duncan nodded. “Let him know I’ll see him after breakfast. Were you able to get Raleigh back safely?”

“Yes,” Herc confirmed. “He’s a little bruised but nothing permanent.”

“Oh good,” Duncan said, relieved. He glanced at his watch, then shook his head as he realized yet another timepiece had fallen victim to a Quickening. “What time is it?”

“0251,” Herc told him. “Excuse me a moment.” He turned to speak to the nearest PPDC security officer, who then moved quickly to secure keys to a PPDC vehicle. “Dirk will meet you out front in ten minutes.” Herc paused and went with his gut. Duncan was a good guy; his actions had proven that, and Herc had gambled on less for far greater odds. The least he could do was offer something to ease that Quickening. “Can I get you anything? Shot of whiskey?”

Duncan waved off the offer. “I’m good, thanks. Is nine AM too late to come by?”

“Not on a Saturday,” Herc told him. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Both Richie and Herc waited until Duncan was safely in the PPDC towncar before turning to head into the ‘dome. “So how did you two get away from the warehouse?”

“Borrowed the car that was used to transport Raleigh and ditched it in a parking lot near the club, then took a taxi from the club back here,” Richie said. “Figured it would be better to go that route than drive that car all the way back here.”

“I was worried you might have to walk all the way back,” Herc said.

“Nah, I’d have hotwired something,” Richie said. “Stop worrying. I’m okay, Mac’s realized that I’m grown up, and you and I have better things to do with what’s left of our evening than continuing to fret about things that are done.”

Herc chuckled softly. “So we do. Number one on that list: sleep.”

Richie grinned. “And who was telling me that he could stay up all night?”

“My son,” Herc replied immediately. He could feel the adrenaline crash coming on. “But if you want a shower attendant, speak up or else I’m just going to go straight to bed.”

“Never going to turn down the offer of your hands on me,” Richie replied. “Especially if we’re using your shower.”

Herc smiled and kissed him, stopping their movement through the hallway briefly before Richie urged him to continue onto someplace more private.

* * *

“What are you going to do now?” Raleigh asked his brother a week later as they sat in the communal living room. Yancy had gotten both Herc’s and Raleigh’s versions of how Raleigh had been kidnapped and rescued, and had agreed with Richie that Kevin Crump sounded like an idiot. Yancy wasn’t entirely sure he agreed that Kevin or his goons deserved to be dead, but he knew that he would’ve likely committed violence against them had he been in a position to do so. It was over and done; Yancy wanted to focus more on the future, so that was what he was doing.

“Well, I have my passport, a replacement Alaskan driver’s license, and a official US government document declaring me no longer dead. Thanks to Duncan, I have a bank account with an international bank and some funds in said account, so my pension checks have someplace to go.” Yancy ticked off the list. “Duncan’s headed to New York tomorrow to help move Rachel to an assisted living facility; the doctors say she’s doing really well despite the stroke.”

“But you’re not going with him,” Raleigh stated.

Yancy shook his head. “Marnie in Marketing asked me if I’d be willing to do a few more interviews, so I asked Herc if it was okay if I stayed another week. Plus, Duncan told me that the longer he stays here, the more likely headhunters will come looking for him, so it’s best for everyone’s safety if he leaves.” Yancy made a face. “I hate thinking that there’s some kind of immortal beacon on him. I mean, he went seven years without fighting anyone.”

“As far as you know,” Raleigh pointed out. “He could’ve taken a challenge when you were out wandering the neighborhood.”

Yancy frowned. “Maybe,” he said. “I never thought to ask.” Yancy looked at his brother. “You okay? I mean, you got grabbed by an immortal a week ago.”

“Was supposed to be you,” Raleigh pointed out. “And Chuck, Herc, and Richie all warned me it was bound to happen sometime. I just wish….”

“What?”

“That between who we are and who they are that ‘kidnapping’ wasn’t a thing. Pisses me off that some idiot thinks we’re leverage – and yeah, I know I was leverage the moment you and I stepped out in Gipsy and became famous. It’s just –” he sighed heavily “– I didn’t need more fuel for my nightmares. I’m not sure I’m going to look at a car trunk the same way again. If someone kidnaps you for the same bullshit reason as Crump did, I swear I’m going to raise hell.” Raleigh held up a hand. “And no, I don’t want to give up loving Chuck or being around Mako, Herc, Richie, and everyone else, and live the rest of my live as a hermit in the middle of the woods somewhere. I don’t want to be away from you, either. For me, that sounds like a shortcut to going insane.”

“Or starting to doubt that you’re capable of doing anything else?” Yancy half-joked.

The brothers shared a look. “You’d know,” Raleigh replied, but there was no censure in his tone. “So now that you’re going to be here for a week doing stuff for Marketing, what are you going to do after that?”

Yancy took a deep breath before he let it out. “I’d like you to come see the farm where I spent the last seven years, visit the family I used to play with, and see Faye’s grave. Then, when we get back, you can help me find an apartment here in the city, because I’m not living in the ‘dome.”

Raleigh’s eyes widened. “You’re going to live here in the city?”

“How else am I going to make sure I can see you and Chuck and Mako and Tendo and everyone else on a regular basis?”

“But what are you going to do for a job?”

Yancy shrugged. “I’ll figure it out. Like I said, Duncan gave me some money – he called it back pay for helping on his farm for so long – so I don’t have to run out and figure it out right this minute. Plus, there are companies who’ll want someone like me. I’ve been looking hard at an opportunity with Mercy Corps that’s based here; it’s helping coordinate supplies and stuff like that. I know Mako would love me to join her team, working on the next jaeger, but –” Yancy sighed “– I think I’m done, bro. I was watching the new ones and I can’t imagine getting up in a conn-pod without panicking.”

Raleigh considered this. “Okay,” he said, and hugged his brother.

Yancy shook his head. “You are something else, kid. I thought for sure you were going to give me more shit than this.”

“Nah,” Raleigh drawled. “I figured you wouldn’t take Mako up on her offer. You never did like waking up at o’dark early, and a regular office job would let you sleep in some.”

Yancy laughed ruefully. “It’s more…I can’t do these steel walls like you. I got used to having some space to roam, especially in wolf form. I don’t know how you do it. I’ve only been here a few weeks and I already want out.”

Raleigh smiled. “I have these hallways memorized. I don’t know if I could do as well if I didn’t. They’re familiar to me now.”

Yancy bowed his head. From discussions with Dr. P’Eng, he knew that his brother would always have nightmares of that godawful day. “I’m sorry, kid.”

Raleigh offered him a rueful smile before he said determinedly, “Well, you can make it up to me. You get to be the one to tell Mako that you need an entire apartment decorated. She would love to get to know you better.”

Yancy eyed him warily as Chuck approached them. “Should I be scared?”

“Only if you don’t remember how to talk with sticks,” Chuck said. “Come on, why don’t you two show the kids how it’s done, and then maybe you can get Mako to fight against you as well. I’d love to see how compatible you two still are, or if Mako really just meshed that much better with Raleigh. Shawn Reardon thinks you can't fight at all; that's why you didn't show up for Operation Pitfall.”

Insulted by that, Yancy looked at his brother. “I haven’t done jaeger bushido in seven years.”

“It’s like riding a bike. Come on, bro, before we both don’t hear the end of it.”

Chuckling ruefully, Yancy rose to his feet and followed Raleigh to the locker room closest to the kwoon to change as Chuck spread the word that the Beckets were going to fight.

Yancy _had_ forgotten just how to fight with a bō, but it came back with a sudden rush as he stood on the mat facing his brother. Within two moves, Yancy realized that his brother fought with more confidence than Yancy remembered. It still was a glorious dialogue. In those minutes, Yancy felt closer to his brother than he had in the weeks prior, as if they were closing the door on that past together. It was made even sweeter when Yancy caught sight of Shawn paying Chuck the money he’d bet. Fighting Mako was more vicious, and it betrayed the fact that Yancy was out of practice – but he could see in how she fought why she was the better match for Raleigh. She had the hunger for the win in a way Yancy acknowledged he no longer had, and the fight became more of a ‘yes, you are my brother’s copilot and I’m okay with this’ sort of conversation.

And if later on that evening, a pair of blond wolves wandered the halls in perfect sync, well. That was exactly what Chuck had planned. He couldn’t change that his boyfriend had been kidnapped right under his nose; that would haunt him, but Chuck had always prided himself on being able to roll with the punches and come up swinging. Next time, he wouldn’t assume that the less obvious target was safe. Until then, however, he was going to fix what he could fix, and indulge in a little wish fulfillment along the way. That plan was working out splendidly.

“Quit smirking, Chuck,” Herc told him as the Beckets, still in wolf form, returned to the communal living room where they were sitting with Mako and Richie. Herc was proud of his son’s sneakiness, but he didn’t think the gloating was necessary. Still, he was glad to see the brothers were in fine spirits; it was a contrast to the calm Richie now projected, as if helping Duncan win had eased that old, lingering anger. Herc felt confident that while Richie wouldn’t forget the past he shared with Duncan, it was now more settled than it had ever been. It was, Herc thought, a good place for everyone to be. Still, that didn’t mean Chuck was off the hook for his machinations. “You know Raleigh doesn’t like it when you arrange his life.”

“What? They needed that fight, and look at them now. I always wanted to see them, and so did Mako. Didn’t you?”

“I did. I only ever saw the old videos. It was good to see that they are still Drift compatible, and it was a pleasure to fight against Yancy.” To her copilot, who looked up at her with an adoring grin, she said, “You still could’ve taken him out two moves earlier.”

Raleigh barked as if to say, “Yeah, well, I gave him a break.”

Sounding insulted, Yancy barked a protest and nipped his brother.

Raleigh shot him a look and started to chase him around the room.

“Raleigh! Yancy!” Herc snapped. “You were _not_ raised as wolves. Do not act like them. Now go get dressed and let’s all go out to dinner as we planned.”

Richie tucked a smile in his cheek as he looked around at the family he’d made. They were going to be all right, he thought, and let one hand curl discreetly into Herc’s. His eyes met Chuck’s, still alight with amusement, and nodded once, satisfied. Whatever happened next, they were going to face it together.

_Finis_  
_July 8, 2015_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Killa, Mackiedockie, and Dragonfly for helping me break a block I had on this fic regarding Connor. Thanks also to everyone who answered my little survey, and who gave me such interesting ideas along the way!
> 
> As always - if you're reading this long after the posting date, the original footer note still stands. I love to hear from my readers! :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, constructive criticism, 'hey, you left out a word here' sorts of things, 'I liked this', and kudos are always welcomed, as are questions about the story. :-)


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